


Go Catch a Falling Star

by AndreaLyn



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Stardust Fusion, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-06-29 01:10:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19819429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndreaLyn/pseuds/AndreaLyn
Summary: Alex wants a kiss, his brothers want the throne, and Noah wants power. Sadly, no one bothered to ask Michael what he wants. As time continues to go by, there's only one thing he wants at all -- Alex Manes.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For milzilla, really, because even though I basically prompted myself into writing this one, let's call this the thank you for writing the 10 things au that I also prompted.

In the desert outside Roswell, a star falls.

He hadn’t meant to. In fact, it had been the last thing that he’d been meaning to do, but he’d been trying to get a better look at the world below and had fallen out of his perfectly stable state, careening towards the ground. He’s shifted into a form far more suitable to the world below, but unfortunately, is every bit as fragile as those who live on the ground.

He crash lands and it’s far from pretty. 

“Oh, fuck,” is all he says, because he thinks his ankle is fractured, maybe sprained. He’s fallen to earth and already within moments, he’s hurt for it. He can hear the others above laughing at him, teasing him as if he can’t do anything right, but the star will find a way back to them, where he’ll give them hell for laughing when they could have staged a rescue.

Right now, he has the pain in his foot to worry about.

It’s far from the worst thing that will happen over the coming weeks; he just doesn’t know it yet.

* * *

He’s sitting with Kyle when the star falls from the sky. 

Alex has been stargazing with him, but while Kyle’s attention has been fixed upwards, Alex can’t stop looking at him. He’s the most beautiful thing in Roswell and, perched on the ledge with him over the cliffs of the desert, he doesn’t want to look away, not even for the bright collision of the star in the wilds of the desert. 

Out there is dangerous, he knows. It’s the wilds and a world that he’s not supposed to venture into. It holds magic and confusion and evil. It’s taken some of his brothers in arms, it’s lured and ensnared his father’s sanity in his quest to retain his control of command, and now, another star has fallen from the heavens to plunge towards the earth and its inevitable capture by Jesse’s forces, other stars, or curious bystanders. 

Right here beside him, there’s Kyle Valenti.

Everyone in Roswell is in love with him. He’s a skilled doctor, handsome and kind of heart. He has been Alex’s best friend since his childhood, even though there have been times when he simply _tolerates_ Alex’s preferences. Though, in recent days, Alex has begun to feel as though perhaps he might have a chance. Kyle has been spending more time with him and even asks Alex to be with him, often resulting in nights just like this. 

He simply needs to win Kyle’s admiration in order to secure his love. 

“Will you let me kiss you?” Alex asks, heart in his chest, as they sit here, hip to hip, basking in each other’s warmth.

Perhaps a kiss will secure it. 

Kyle glances to Alex with a fond smile, though it stings when it feels that the admiration is more fraternal than romantic. “What would you give me, in exchange for a kiss?”

“The world,” Alex insists. “I’d write you a song. I’d bring you riches.” He’s struggling to think of what he _wouldn’t_ do for Kyle, glancing out to the desert when it hits him. “For you, I would venture into the desert wilds and bring you back a fallen star.”

Kyle looks out to those wilds, his chin lifted up in consideration. “For the star,” he says, glancing to Alex as he slides his fingers under Alex’s chin to lift his gaze. “If you bring me back a fallen star, then I’ll kiss you, Alex Manes.”

Alex thinks that it’s a joke for a long moment, but then Kyle keeps looking at him with that warmth and intent in his eyes. 

He’s _serious_.

Instantly, Alex feels his heart soar as he feels the excitement hit. It can’t be that hard to go out into the desert and retrieve a star, can it? He’s well trained and skilled in defending himself after his years of being a guard for the kingdom. Besides, he would cross the whole world for a kiss from Kyle.

How hard could it be to fetch and bring back a single star?

“It won’t take me more than two weeks,” Alex vows, struggling to his feet. For the first time in his life, the possibility of getting what he wants is laid out in front of him. His heart beats ever faster, he allows himself to stare at Kyle’s lips, and he knows that he will complete this mission. “For you, Kyle. For you, I would do anything.”

He hasn’t failed on a mission yet. 

In order to gain a kiss from Kyle Valenti, he only has to go into the wilds and fetch a star.

How hard could that be?

* * *

“Do you see it, boys?” asks Jesse Manes, when the light flashes through the sky and hurtles towards the ground.

This is the man who has controlled the decisions of the town for the last two decades. From his throne of power, he has taken the skills and talents of the fallen stars and used them to create a legacy for himself. At his side are three of his four sons, who are there to tend to his every dying need. Their father is ill, a disease that came on suddenly in recent days against the understanding of any of their local physicians, but the official excuse is that it had to do with his work. 

The sons know better. 

They know about the research labs in the desert where they keep the other-worldly beings that come from the sky. One of them had touched his father and the sickness had invaded within days. With his impending death, there must be a successor and Flint, Hunter, and Harlan have all been fighting for that honor. Alex should also be there, but Alex is busy trying his damnedest to win Kyle Valenti’s heart and has no love nor want for the throne.

What Jesse Manes has seen has given him the perfect challenge for his boys. 

“That star is like the otherworldly creatures in our prisons and bears power. It offers whoever that holds it strength,” he told them, his breath heavy and labored. “I put the task on my sons,” he says. “Whichever of you brings back that star to these halls, I leave my blessing and my dominion over Roswell, its people, and the aliens within our prisons.”

These are the last words he will ever speak. He breathes in and then as he exhales, his body collapses in its seat. The throne is still inhabited, but not by anyone breathing.

The sons regard one another over their father’s corpse. “Alex should have been here,” is what Harlan says. “He would have loved seeing him croak.”

Harlan and Hunter glance to his body, and while none of them are going to say it, they’re all thinking it. “Draw straws for who has to take him to his grave?” Flint suggests, even as he looks at the conspiring look his older brothers give one another. 

Harlan claps Flint on the shoulder and walks out without a word. Hunter grabs him by the other shoulder, his smirk wide. “Youngest one present has to do it,” he says, tugging on his gloves. “Besides, I have to get out to the desert to find a star.” He walks away after Harlan, leaving Flint with their father’s body and a challenge issued to Flint. “It’s my birthright to sit in that chair and if I need some aliens’ body to help me claim it, then I’m going to get it.”

Glaring at Jesse’s body, Flint resigns himself to his fate.

“This should be Alex’s job,” is all he complains as he gets to work, knowing that the sooner he finishes, the sooner he can start to track down the star and prove that it isn’t Hunter’s birthright at all, not if Flint beats him to it.

* * *

Noah Bracken has exhausted nearly every ounce of his power in recent days. 

He had used almost all of his power to escape Jesse Manes’ stronghold fortress in Roswell. Then, he’d worked hard to develop his powers, but it had weakened him until he had been left as little more than a husk of his former self. He needs more power. He needs more life.

For some time, he’s been taking from the humans, but it’s like using a candle when he needs a raging forest fire to fuel his veins. He’s in the fields, draining the life of a young woman from the nearby towns, when he sees the star plummet to the earth. 

It’s been some time since Noah has drained another alien of their power and their life, but he remembers the rush of it. Killing another alien and inheriting their force and their power is worth a dozen humans and if this star had been so careless as to fall to earth without a ship, then it’s open game to take what he needs.

It’s exactly what he needs to get back to feeling like his former self.

He looks to his glowing hand, the woman who’s pleading for her life, and gives a derisive growl. “It’s almost not worth it.”

“You’ll let me go?” she pleads, tears streaking her cheeks.

Noah tips his head to the side. “I said _almost_ ,” he snaps, and the glow of his hand increases in its intensity, stealing the last of her life. He breathes it in raggedly and pushes his hand through his hair, but it hasn’t done enough.

His hair is still streaked with white, his face drawn and sunk. He looks like an old man because he’s living on the meager power the humans provide him, body by body. Until he has the power he needs, he’ll never be back to his full strength and without the protection of one of the pods that Jesse keeps a stronghold on, he can’t even put himself in stasis. Letting the woman’s body drop to the desert floor in a clumsy pile, Noah staggers back to his horse. 

“Wait for me, little star,” he says. “and I’ll give you a good reason to shine.”


	2. Chapter 2

Three brothers ride from the town, one alien from the desert, and Alex Manes stands at the lip of a crater, wearing a backpack and holding a map. He has a single day’s head start, minus a few hours, but had managed to use the satellites above them and his technological capabilities to figure out exactly where the new crater had appeared in the wilds.

In the bottom of the crater, there’s a figure. It’s a _man_. 

Suddenly, Alex’s mission has become very strange and he thinks of his father and the cages that hold creatures from another world. He stands so long on the lip of the crater that the dirt beneath him shifts slightly and his prosthetic causes him to lose balance, falling on his ass and sliding ten feet into the crater, towards the man that’s _glowing_. It seems to spark off his skin, like a trick of the light, but as Alex struggles to get back to his feet, the man seems to realize that he’s not alone. He’s not moving very much and he’s favoring one of his feet, which means that he must be injured.

The glowing is enough to convince Alex that this is his star, even if it’s in the last form he might ever expect. Reaching into his bag, he digs out a syringe with a sedative, because while he might have been counting on something else, he’d come prepared.

You never know what you’re going to run into, out in the Roswell wilds.

“Stay where you are,” Alex warns, approaching slowly. “Do you hear me, star? Stay there,” he says, using his commanding voice that he had used with his teams during his service. He hasn’t brought the weapons he normally would, but seeing as the star looks like he’s unable to get himself out of the crater, he shouldn’t need them. 

The star turns, giving Alex his first good look at him. His hair seems to catch the moonlight in its curls, glowing ethereally and lighting up warm brown eyes. His skin looks _soft_ and smooth. The white linen shirt and trousers he’s wearing strain at his shoulders every time he moves and his bare feet dig into the sand. 

One of them looks bruised and awful, but that’s not Alex’s concern.

Kyle’s a doctor, so when Alex brings him back to Roswell, then his love can patch up the star and Kyle can do whatever he wants with him. 

Approaching slowly, Alex sizes him up. He’s taller than Alex by an inch or so, but his face is wracked with pain and _anger_. It’s the anger that makes him wary, of course, which means he keeps a few feet between them until he can tie his hands up with the rope that he’d brought (for climbing, though apparently, he’ll need it to take his hostage). 

“You’re going to come with me,” Alex says, holding the rope in front of him. “You’re a star, and I need you for something _very_ important to me.” What do stars know of love? If Alex were to describe how he feels, would the thing in the crater even understand him? As Alex approaches, he keeps the rope taut between his hands, but he doesn’t make his move just yet. He needs to be cautious, careful, or he’ll lose his chance at a kiss with Kyle forever.

“I’m not a star,” the star says, of all things.

“What?”

“I’m not a star!” he echoes, sounding angrier than before. “Technically, I’m an alien species that can appear in a gaseous state and look like a star, but that doesn’t mean that I’m a _thing_ for you to haul around for…for what, exactly?”

Alex feels his cheeks go hot, knowing that he’s about to need to explain himself. “There’s someone back in my village, I’m going to give you to him as a gift.”

The star snorts, shaking his head. “I’m not a thing. I have a name,” he says. “You can’t just go around giving me as a gift to people!” He’s struggling to try and duck out of Alex’s reach, though it’s absolutely in vain. Alex knows that even with the shifting sands and his prosthetic, he’ll be quicker than a star with a damaged foot. He lets him have this attempt at escape, even if it becomes very clear that he’s not going anywhere.

When reality sinks in, the star curses wildly; whatever he is, alien or star, he clearly knows plenty of profanity. 

“I’m Michael,” he says. Alex tries not to think about how he might have been named that after the angels of lore, as shining and radiant as one. 

It’s somewhat unnerving, because as far as he’s concerned, stars aren’t supposed to have names. When this had been an object in his mind and not a person, this task had been so much easier to process, but now it’s an actual man. Alex shifts the capped syringe into his pocket and decides that he’ll go with the rope only, stepping closer and grabbing for Michael’s forearm.

Something, some force, pushes him back. It’s weak, but certainly there.

“Fuck,” Michael gets out, darkly. “They’re not working properly.”

Alex isn’t sure what _they_ are or why he’s so dismayed, but whatever it is that’s failing him has clearly upset Michael enough that he’s distracted. It gives Alex the opportunity to dart in and wrap up Michael’s wrists with the rope. He doesn’t do it too tightly, because it’s only to ensure he won’t run away, and seeing as Michael seems so occupied with something else, he’s numbly letting it happen. 

If he could perish by a glare, Alex thinks he’d be dead.

“Once we get back to Roswell, you’ll be treated well.”

Michael holds up his bound wrists, gaping at Alex with disbelief. “Oh? You gonna exchange these for silk ropes after you’ve fucking kidnapped me and dragged me back? I thought I was a gift, you aren’t gonna wrap me up?” 

He ignores it as he fashions a rope lead to attach to the bound wrists, avoiding Michael’s eyes. “I need to get you back,” is what he says, instead of thinking about the future and the implication that Kyle wouldn’t take good care of the prize Alex is bringing him. That same niggling guilt also refuses to leave him – should he really be doing this when a star isn’t a star, but a _person_ instead?

Whatever crisis he’s undertaking gets put on pause when he suddenly hears Michael’s voice in his head, sneering: _Asshole_. Alex gives him a disturbed look, because he’d _heard_ that in his own head, clear as day. How did he hear that? 

Clearly, Michael isn’t focused on that, though, because he’s rubbing at his bound wrists, muttering curses under his breath, making comments about, “when I get my powers back”, and it's all a lot for Alex, who really thought that he’d tuck a glimmering artifact into his backpack and ride home to Kyle to collect his kiss. 

In the face of this confusing reality, Alex decides instead to focus on leading Michael out of the crater to get to the horse. “What, so now you’re not even going to talk to me?” He does it silently, not saying a word

Alex isn’t planning to say a thing.

It’s not that he wants to be rude. It’s not that he even is trying to be an asshole. It’s more that Alex is so flustered that he has no idea what he wants to say to a handsome man who he’s tied up and is dragging up a hill that he decides that saying nothing at all is the key. When he remains silent, that sets Michael off into another angry rant, though it gets cut off sharply at the same time as Alex feels the rope lead go taut. 

He looks back in time to see Michael’s leg give out before he goes stumbling to the ground with a sharp cry of pain. It stops Alex in his tracks. As much as he wants to get Michael back to Roswell to give him to Kyle, that’s not going to happen if his foot is preventing him from walking. Not to mention, something about the pain on Michael’s face makes something in Alex twist uncomfortably. He’d never actively want to see someone in pain and something about Michael being in pain makes him feel even worse.

He looks around and gestures to a small rock outcropping just over the crater’s edge, thinking that they can lean against it. 

“Come on, over here.”

“Yeah? You gonna carry me there?” Michael snaps at him. “My foot is fucking broken!”

Alex’s gaze slides down to the foot. He’s been in the field long enough to assess injuries and while it certainly looks terrible, _broken_ is a stretch. “Fractured, probably,” he replies evenly, digging into his bag to find gauze and tape, looking around for something that can set the foot in a makeshift splint. 

Michael sees the supplies he’s pulling out, casting a dubious look on him. “You can’t be serious.”

“I told you, I need to get you back to Roswell and unless you can fly us there, we’re walking back to my horse,” Alex snaps. “I thought I was coming out here to get a _star_ , some hunk of rock, not some hunk of…” His cheeks go brilliantly red, because of course he’s noticed how handsome Michael is, but he doubts the star wants to hear it.

Michael rolls his eyes. “It’s not my fault no one ever taught you about stars.”

No. It’s his father’s fault for never mentioning that the aliens he keeps in their cages could be _stars_. What other powers do they have that Alex has been in the dark about? What else has his father known all his life that Alex doesn’t, simply because he’s been too busy being in love instead of learning the family trade, all while proving his worth?

Alex works rapidly. He’s used to doing this when an injury happens in the middle of an assault and they don’t have time to waste. It’s far from his best work, but he’s managed to set up the splint in a way that should work. 

He’s ignoring how Michael is leaning his weight on him, how his body temperature seems to be running _hot_ , and the way he feels as he straightens up right into Michael’s space, close enough to see flecks of gold in Michael’s eyes. 

No one ever taught him that stars could be so handsome.

“Come on,” he says, flustered and flushed in his cheeks. He tugs on the rope again, but this time, he's walking more beside Michael instead of in front of him. “Let’s keep moving.”

If they keep moving, he doesn’t have to think about the ramifications of what he’s doing or the fact that Michael has thrown some of his accepted beliefs and understandings about the world completely out the window. 

“What’s so important that you had to kidnap me, huh? I’m a gift for who?” Michael demands.

Alex can feel his cheeks go hot and while he might be able to lie, it feels wrong. He’s always tried to live his life as honestly as he can and besides that, Michael’s going to figure it out fairly quickly when they return to Roswell and Alex delivers him as a prize.

He mumbles his answer under his breath, because while he might not want to lie, he’s also not proud of it.

“I’m a star. I shine, but I don’t have super hearing,” Michael deadpans. “Come again?”

“I’m taking you back to my love for a kiss.”

The rope goes taut and it nearly yanks Alex off his feet. When he turns, he finds that Michael has sat himself down on the lip of the crater. He tugs on the rope once, then twice, and when it’s clearly not going to do anything, he lets it go slack, admitting that he’s not getting any further right now. Apparently, Michael’s willingness to be kidnapped has some boundaries and they just ran headfirst into one. 

With a deep breath, Alex debates finding some insignificant hunk of rock in the desert to bring back and try it pass it off as the star for Kyle. “You’re an asshole,” he breathes out, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Right back atcha,” Michael snaps, crossing his arms and seemingly doubling down on that stubbornness as he extends his legs in the sand, challenging Alex with a look that demands, _what are you going to do about it?_

It seems the perfect time to follow Michael’s lead. 

Slumping into a sit, leaning against his backpack, he echoes some of Michael’s earlier profanity. “Fuck,” is all he gets out, because he really did think this would be so much easier.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My great thanks to InsidiousIntent for the beta of this chapter! 
> 
> Warning: There is minor character death in this chapter.

It takes hours and Alex has yet to convince Michael to get up on his feet. 

The only relief is that Alex suspects he’ll have an ally on his side, though it has nothing to do with his noble cause in fetching Michael back to Roswell, and everything to do with how parched they’re both becoming. With every passing hour, their reserves of water continue to deplete, because Alex had only brought enough for a quick journey. Eventually, Michael will fold. He will.

Unless stars don’t need water? Alex really should have paid more mind to this when his father discussed the aliens. 

Instead of fixating on which of them will succumb to dehydration first, Alex focuses on carving the piece of driftwood he’d found in the crater. It’s far better to have a task at hand than remain useless because of Michael’s stubborn unwillingness to move. 

“What are you doing?”

Alex raises his brows. “You’ll talk to me, then? I thought you weren’t talking _or_ moving.”

“I hurt and I haven’t got a healer to help me,” Michael snipes, rubbing at his foot. “Besides, maybe I don’t want to hear about how I’m nothing more than a shiny bauble for you to bring back to someone else.” His eyes slide over the height of the driftwood and the adjustments Alex is making. “You’re making me a crutch.”

Alex’s cheeks flush and he stares at the driftwood. “It’s the decent thing to do.”

Michael looks like he has any number of comments he’d like to make about what the truly decent thing to do is, which means Alex needs to fend off that topic before he manages to burrow even deeper into that hole. 

“Why were you looking down on us, anyway? You were in the sky, isn’t it more interesting up there?”

He’s met with silence. Alex sighs and rolls his eyes, wondering why he’s even bothering. Clearly Michael doesn’t want to speak to him, which means that pleasantries are out of the question for the ride back to Roswell. If they even get back to the horse, because at this rate, Alex is going to grow old and die out here in the sand. 

He’s nearly given up on conversation completely when he hears a soft answer. “It gets lonely, especially in that state. You can talk to the others, but it’s not really language, and there’s no connection, there’s no…” He glances sideways at Alex, though he tips his head down and clears his throat. “Have you ever gone months, years, without the touch of another person?”

He hasn’t, but Alex sometimes wonders if the lack of a loving touch counts.

“What sort of touch?”

“Nothing complicated,” Michael says. “The embrace of a brother, the touch of a lover to your hand, a kiss.” His expression sours at the last. “Though, I suppose you know all about that, seeing as you’re bringing me back to get one of those, so you must be desperate.” 

Whatever sympathy Alex had been feeling evaporates in that moment. He’s on his feet and he thrusts the crutch at Michael. “Take this,” he orders. His eye is on the sky, not just for the impending sunrise, but also to keep his eye on the horizon where he can see the beginnings of a storm. The last thing they need is to be out in the wilds when that storm moves in. 

There’s no shelter here and if they stay, the chances of lightning catching them off-guard is too great. Alex doesn’t know near enough about stars or aliens to know whether the storm will be drawn to their energy, which means that they need to move.

“It’s about to get dangerous out here if we’re still unprotected when that storm hits,” he says, and while Alex is speaking of the weather, he has absolutely no idea how right he is. “Please,” he finally begs. “At least let me get us close to the caves, where we can take shelter.” 

Michael reaches out with his bound hands and settles the crutch under his shoulder, glowering at Alex. He’s moving, but only just. Alex collects his things, resettles his prosthetic, and thinks about the fact that they only have two good legs between the two of them. He wills himself not to focus on that, lest it make him feel even more dread about their chances.

Besides, his own situation makes it difficult to have much patience for Michael when he seems to be deliberately stalling, trying every last ounce of Alex’s patience. He keeps the rope between them moving, tugging every now and again, as if he can somehow coax Michael to move with that frustrated encouragement alone.

“Can’t you move faster?”

“I don’t know if you noticed, but my foot is _still broken_!” he snaps. 

“Fractured,” Alex snaps back at him, confident in his assessment now that he’s seen it in action.

Michael smirks at him before he stops abruptly. In protest, Alex yanks on the rope, but Michael digs his heels in. It’s a petulant and immature move, but Alex loosens his grip and turns around to glare at him. 

Michael’s clearly ramping up for another burst of anger. “How about I fracture your foot and then you can tell me what it’s like having some asshole drag you around the desert to get back to some douchebag for a kiss!”

“Kyle is not a douchebag!” Alex snaps. “And you’re not the only one who’s struggling, but you don’t hear me bitching about it every second!” He leans down enough to knock on his prosthetic, the metal clanging sound echoing. His eyes are bright with incandescent fury, given that Michael knows absolutely nothing about him. 

How can Michael act like he does? How can he pretend that he’s the only one experiencing a hardship?

That seems to stun Michael in his tracks. He shuts up and while he keeps moving, it’s at the same snail’s pace as before. The more it goes on, the more Alex begins to wonder if maybe he isn’t feigning this injury and whether it’s truly persisting. “What happened?” is Michael’s voice, curious and even, behind him.

“I was with my team when something exploded. I lost my leg saving their lives.” It’s something he says with no emotion because a Manes man is expected to sacrifice. 

Perhaps that’s why he’s allowed himself to get so tangled up in love now that he’s back from his missions. With Kyle, he doesn’t have to think about the things he’s done to prove himself to his father, a family determined to see whether he was worthy of a throne he didn’t even want. With Kyle, he can sit there and watch the stars and talk about his life and a future that he can map out for himself. 

Whatever else Michael had been about to say, it never comes. He closes his mouth and Alex doesn’t press. They keep moving, finally making it over the lip of the crater, and Alex might cry from relief even though he knows they’ve still got a long journey yet to undertake. 

It will be even longer if they go at the speed Michael seems to want to walk at. 

“I can’t believe you’re expecting me to _walk_ all the way back,” Michael is still complaining, which is the last straw for Alex.

He drops the rope, throwing it to the ground and he’s debating knocking Michael out so he can throw him over his shoulder and carry him back to town, not minding in the least how it will make him seem like a caveman. There’s no point trying to reason with him, clearly, or Alex might ask what Michael would do for a kiss with the man he loves.

“I’m not intending to walk, we have a horse!” he insists, turning to point at … the empty space where his horse and their supplies had been. 

There’s a sinking sensation in Alex’s stomach and it’s not because of the storm on the horizon.

“Is it one of those new invisible horses?” Michael is still loudly complaining, clearly not having noticed the danger. “Or are you going to whistle and he’ll magically appea…” He shuts up, only because Alex gets behind him and clamps his palm over Michael’s mouth. He doesn’t flinch or pull away, even when Michael peeks his tongue out to press against his fingers. 

Heart racing, Alex searches the area. The land is flat here, but there are several craters around from stars and other debris falling from the sky. His horse might be in any one of them, but if it is, someone has deliberately led it there. It seems more plausible that the horse has been sent off, which means two things: Their way back to Roswell is gone and they’re not alone.

“Shut up,” Alex hisses, and reaches for the syringe that he’d tucked away in his back pocket. 

“Don’t do that.”

The voice comes from right in front of them, but Alex can’t see anyone. With the sun rising, the desert is beginning to bake and the heat shimmers low to the ground. Through it, he thinks he sees the form of an old man approaching with an unsteady gait. Alex’s fingers tighten on the syringe and he can feel Michael’s hands gripping his arm tightly. 

“Alex, no,” Michael pleads, now that Alex has removed his hand.

“It’s okay, Michael, I’ll deal with this.”

“No, you won’t,” Michael says. “I know who that is.”

“You’ve seen me, have you?” the man asks as he steps forward. He looks feeble and old. Surely, he can’t be any danger to them. “Then you know that I just want what you can offer.”

Alex glances askance to Michael, not entirely sure what’s going on, but this old man seems like he can be reasoned with. If nothing else, Alex can figure out what happened to his horse. “Did you see an animal? He would have had packs on it, geared up for a three days’ ride. It had my water, our food,” he says, trying to appeal to the man’s goodness. 

“Yes, I saw it.”

Alex sighs with relief. “Good. Where is he?”

“Dead. It wasn’t nearly enough energy,” the man sighs, and Alex’s back goes rigid with the danger.

“Noah,” Michael says. “I know you. Noah Bracken. You steal energy to prolong your own life. Once you escaped the prisons, you’ve been searching for a way to keep you alive, now you think it’s me,” he says with a derisive scoff.

“I might be old and weak, but you can’t run, little star.”

“I’m not fucking little…!”

“And your protector hasn’t got much of a leg to stand on. At least, not more than the one,” he says, gaze dropping down to Alex’s prosthetic, like he’s been able to spot him through his gait alone. He turns his head and casts his intense look at Michael, looking past Alex like he’s not even there. 

It sends a chilling sensation down Alex’s spine as he begins to realize that maybe he’s not the only one in the desert out to find a star.

“Alex, move,” Michael commands. “Get out of the way, or he’ll kill you to get to me.”

What does Michael expect to do? It hits Alex quickly after. That small burst of concussive force that had hit him. That had been Michael. When Alex looks at him, he seems like he’s preparing to unleash something apocalyptic, but given that Michael is still wincing, Alex doesn’t have a very good feeling about how this is going to go.

“No,” Alex snaps back at him. “Michael, _trust me_.” He moves just enough to tap his fingers along the syringe so that Michael can see it. He doesn’t want to say that Michael is too weak, too injured, too hurt to be a help, but it’s the truth.

Noah laughs as he shakes his head. “Greedy little boy, aren’t you? You’d waste a star for your own personal gain when it could save my life,” he growls and begins to stalk forward, his feet dragging and creating a dusty stream behind him. “I won’t make him watch you suffer. I’m not that cruel.” He crooks his finger and Alex feels his feet digging through the sand, like he’s being brought towards Noah.

He makes a show of resisting, because he needs to be close in order to inject him, but he needs to make it look real.

“Alex!” Michael shouts in a panic.

It appears that he’s made it look _too_ real, but he steels himself and ignores Michael’s worry to fix his gaze on Noah. Alex knows he’ll only have the one shot with the syringe, and he prepares himself for Noah’s assault when he hears the most awful noise he’s ever heard in his life. It’s his stupid older brothers, whooping as they ride their horses towards them, clamoring, “I see him, he’s mine!” and fighting one another to get there first, clearly not aware of the danger.

“Harlan! Hunter! Turn back!” Alex tries to warn them desperately.

“And leave the star with you?” Harlan scoffs, dismounting first with a knife in hand. “I see you’ve captured him. Bravo, Alex. I didn’t think you had it in you.” 

He’s not paying attention to Noah as he approaches. He’s not paying attention and the warning dies in Alex’s throat when Noah moves, faster than he should be able to, and blocks Harlan’s path to Michael.

“He’s mine,” Noah snaps, and through all of this, Michael is shouting behind them that he’s no one’s, but he’s still bound with the ropes that Alex tied him in and whatever powers he might have aren’t working.

Maybe if Alex hadn’t tied him up, he could help. Maybe if he’d helped him heal instead of dragging him back, Michael might be more of a weapon in this situation, but he’s not. He’s struggling to move forward, but crashes to the ground; it doesn’t stop him, but he’s crawling on hands and knees, now, trying to get closer. 

The hold on Alex releases as Noah focuses on his new challenger.

“Who are you?” Harlan demands as he flips the knife so the sharp end is fixed on Noah’s throat, but Noah strikes first.

Noah’s hand begins to glow, and he strikes as he grabs Harlan from behind, shoving his hand over Harlan’s mouth to muffle his protests and screams. The handprint begins to burn itself into Harlan’s face, using all of Noah’s focus and energy to do it. Now that he has his legs under control, Alex sprints for Noah, but the sand and his prosthetic slow him down. He’s too slow, he hates that he’s too slow, but he reacts on instinct when he makes it to Noah. With all his strength, knowing he’ll only get the one chance, Alex plunges the syringe into Noah’s neck.

He fears that he’s too late, but he has to believe that he can still save Harlan.

“Come on, please,” he gets out, a strangled plea as he staggers back from the force of plunging the syringe into a man’s neck. 

Noah’s hand stops glowing, and he staggers back. Harlan’s body crumples to the ground in a lifeless heap without Noah to hold him up. Within seconds, Noah is already looking younger, which means that he must have taken something from Harlan, though Alex is dreading how _much_ (and worst, if he took everything). Luckily, the sedative works fast. His hand stops glowing and though he holds it up to try and trap Alex, he wavers before collapsing a few feet from Harlan.

“Alex, be careful,” Michael warns frantically, when Alex bends to check Noah’s pulse.

There’s nothing to fear. “He’s out,” he says, and kneels with trouble beside Harlan to look for a pulse. With a distraught look, he glances up to meet Hunter’s hopeful eye, shaking his head. There’s no pulse. There’s no life left in his body. “Why the fuck were you two out here?” Alex asks, biting back the sob in his throat.

“Dad sent us to…”

That’s all Alex needs to hear. He lets out a sob of disbelief, opening his eyes to glare angrily at Hunter. “Dad,” he echoes. 

“He’s dead, Alex. Dad’s dead,” Hunter says evenly. “He tasked us with bringing back the alien. Whoever brings him back,” he says, his eyes on Michael. “That’s who will claim the throne and we both know that you’re not fit for it, baby brother.”

Alex steps back from Harlan’s body and puts himself in between Hunter and Michael. For all that he might be trying to bring Michael back for his own selfish desires, it’s still leagues better than what Hunter or Flint will do with him if they get their hands on him. Speaking of, one brother is still unaccounted for.

“Where’s Flint?”

“Dealing with Dad’s body.” Hunter looks down at Harlan on the desert floor, which makes some of the fight drain from him. “I suppose I’ll run into him, on my way back.” 

He bends to begin collecting Harlan’s body, lying it over his horse’s saddle as he begins to tie Harlan’s horse to his own. Alex wants to protest, because with his horse gone, they need one to get back, but he knows that this is the wrong fight to pick with his brother.

“I’m taking his body back to the family plot,” Hunter says, his voice rough. “Because he’s our brother and he deserves it.” He lifts his tear-stained eyes to Alex, then glances to the murderous alien crumpled on the desert ground, as if wary that he’s going to start moving again. “I’m not letting you take the throne, Alex. The star is mine when I come back and I will have him. You won’t be going far, not on foot.” His gaze slides to Michael and his smile grows predatory, even behind the sheen of heartbreak. “Wait for me, pretty.”

Alex knows there’s no point in protesting, but he still lets out a frustrated shout when he watches Hunter on the horizon taking away the horse they need. His shoulders slump with defeat and he does everything he can not to look behind him at Michael. His bags are gone, his things with them, and all he’s got is the bag on his back, a map, and a star.

Who knows what else might be coming for them?

“Your brother is kind of an asshole,” Michael says quietly. “I’m sorry that you lost the other one, though. And your Dad.”

Alex steels himself at the sound of Michael’s voice and the reminder of what he’s out here for. The goal is to bring Michael back to Roswell, and he’s beginning to think that getting him back to Kyle is the safest option. It will keep him out of the prisons and Noah won’t be able to drain the life out of him. Michael may not think it a good plan, but he doesn’t need to know that Alex’s strategy has shifted from getting him back for a kiss alone. Michael will be protected one way or another, and at least now he sees the danger of lingering.

“Come on,” Alex says, glancing to Noah’s unconscious form. “We should get out of here. I’m not sure how long he’s going to be out.”

This time, Michael gives no protest at all and moves at twice the speed he had before once Alex helps him to his feet. Alex stares nervously at Michael from where he’s still holding onto the rope, coming to a decision. He lets it go, untying the knot from around Michael’s wrists, squeezing his fingers around the rope and hoping that Michael isn’t about to run.

The desert is full of dangerous things, but unfortunately for both Alex and Michael, they don’t happen to fit that description.

Michael doesn’t run.

Alex isn’t sure whether that’s a brave or a stupid choice. Right now, he’s leaning on the selfish wash of relief that he’s not in this alone.


	4. Chapter 4

Having made their escape, Alex now needs to take time to assess the dangers facing them, so he can make an intelligent decision about their next steps. That means assessing their enemy. Alex knows his brothers. He doesn’t know Noah, but he suspects that the time he’s bought by sedating him won’t be enough. He knows that every single one of them will stop at nothing to get Michael back to Roswell, which means that they’re capable of _anything_ and Alex and Michael are at a disadvantage. They’ve been making progress through the desert for almost a day, but the sun is setting and he knows that Flint and Hunter will be on their way again.

Somewhere out there, Noah is also advancing with more vitality than before, thanks to Harlan.

“We’re not safe out here,” he says. “We need a way back to Roswell faster than the two of us on our feet.”

“It’s the desert,” Michael replies, rubbing his palm over his wrist where the ropes have left something of a burn mark in all the chaos – Alex does his best to try to avoid the guilty feeling that floods him when he looks at that, but he can’t because he’d been the one to put the ropes on him in the first place. “Unless you’ve got a horse up your ass, we’re walking.” 

“What, and have it replace the stick?” Alex deadpans, because he’s so used to hearing that from his brothers that it’s become part of his repertoire.

From the look on Michael’s face (horrified, slightly amused, slightly _interested_ ), he doesn’t appear to agree. That’s surprising.

What’s also a surprise is that Michael hasn’t tried to run.

Alex wishes that he could tell himself that it was because Michael trusted him, but he’s too pragmatic for that. 

There are three people still after Michael and while Alex is also serving his own selfish cause, at least he wants to keep Michael alive. Beyond that, Michael’s foot means that he’s not going to make it very far on his own, so he’s likely choosing his alliances wisely and that’s all.

Alex weighs his options and tries to think about _anything_ else when he remembers his father’s old story about the aliens who kept evading his capture after their prison break. His eyes widen and he grabs the map from his backpack to try and see how far they are from one of their berthing spots.

“The Iridescent,” he says.

Michael squints at him like he’s gone mad. “What?”

“There are two aliens that escaped my father’s cells, they have a ship. If we go by air, we can make it back to Roswell safely, so I can…” Alex trails off, because as much as he understands that his mission objective hasn’t changed, it seems crass to say it out loud.

Michael rolls his eyes, giving Alex a disbelieving look. There’s something like hurt there, and maybe he’d thought that Alex had changed his mind.

Should he have? He still longs to think of kissing Kyle, but that seems a world away. 

Right now, keeping Michael safe is his only priority, which means finding them a safe way home and one that won’t get him killed or injured in any other way, because the very thought makes Alex’s stomach churn uncomfortably. 

Michael’s displeasure is clear from his reaction. “So that you can deliver me and get that kiss of yours,” he says snidely, lip curled up with what Alex thinks is disgust. “I guess it’s better than your brothers’ plan to keep me as a pet to prove their rule or Noah’s need to drain me instead of dyeing his hair to keep himself young.” 

Alex can’t help his soft huff of amusement at the quip. Buoyed by the muted approval, he’s already unfolding the map to figure out where they need to go. 

“The last I heard, they used this mesa as one of their pickup spots,” Alex says, tapping it on the map as he digs out his compass and a marker to circle it, glancing skywards to the stars. 

Something twists in his stomach when he glances to the side to see Michael doing the same, but with much more fondness than Alex’s determination. He’d never paid much mind to his father’s stories, because he had never wanted a part of any of that. It turns out that by ignoring it, he’s missed out on so much information about the stars (or aliens, whatever word you want to use).

“Are they all like you? Stars? Aliens?”

“Not all,” Michael says. “We can take many forms. You’ve seen me as I am here, and you see them up there in the sky. I guess some of us decided to command ships that barely broach the atmosphere,” he deadpans. “Waste of materials to make a ship that doesn’t even leave the earth, but to each their own. Maybe they found something worth staying for.” His eyes rest on Alex as he says it, unflinching, and unwavering.

It unsettles him to have Michael looking at him like that, so he deliberately looks away as he folds the map up. 

“Can you navigate? With the stars? I need to know our direction,” Alex says, and though he can do that himself and the compass with enough time, they don’t have as much of _time_ as he’d like. “Or is that something you don’t do?”

Michael shuffles to stand behind Alex, nearly pressed up against him. Alex’s whole body stiffens as though anticipating a threat. From there, Michael could snap his neck or take advantage of their position to get the rope from Alex’s bag. Instead, he breathes out slowly, the warmth of his exhalation on Alex’s neck, and he reaches down to slide his fingers over Alex’s hand to point it skywards.

“There,” he says, voice low and honeyed beside Alex’s ear. “North star, in that direction, I can use that to lead us. I can speak to them, a little,” he admits. “From down here, it’s like asking someone four rooms over for directions, but…” He turns his head like he’s trying to hide the way it upsets him to be so far, but as he moves, his breath cascades over Alex’s cheek.

Alex breathes in and reminds himself of Kyle. He thinks about sitting next to him on the ramparts of the walls that surround Roswell and what it feels like when he’s with him.

Kyle never made him feel this alive, though. It’s like his whole body is trembling with anticipation and he keeps staring up at the stars, letting Michael guide his hand as he points to them, consulting the map over Alex’s shoulder. When he breathes out, Alex swears he can feel the warmth of his body like a pulse washing over him. Then, Michael swivels and points it due northeast. 

“This way,” he says, and releases Alex’s hand.

When he does, it’s like Alex can breathe again. Michael takes the lead, stilted from the way he’s limping on his bad foot, the driftwood crutch digging into the desert as he uses it to hobble himself along. Alex stays a few steps back, aware that it’s a complete flip of how they were before. He needs a moment or two to collect himself, and this is the safest way to do that. 

When the silence grows too awkward, Alex feels the need to fill it. Besides, now that he’s got Michael talking to him, he doesn’t want it to stop. He might as well see if he can use it to gain more information, shouldn’t he?

“You said that you listened,” Alex realizes, his heart in his throat. “That you knew what Noah was because you could watch and you listened. You knew his name. That means you could watch other things, like people in the town.”

It meant that he could watch Alex when he’d been stargazing, both with Kyle and on his own. 

Heart pounding, he wonders if he should ask Michael the question that’s on his mind.

It turns out that he doesn’t have to. “You want to know if I listened to you,” Michael says, his gaze skywards as he keeps moving. He’s limping still, but even with his slow speed, Alex falls behind. He’s not sure he can be so close to Michael’s warmth while he waits for the answer to that question.

Alex doesn’t realize he’s come to a complete stop until Michael turns around and there’s ten feet between them.

“You’re loud.” 

“What?” Alex reacts, shocked.

“You. You’re loud. Those nights, I guess Kyle had left you and you stayed out,” Michael says. “I never saw you with another guy, but I always saw you. You would wish on the stars,” he says. “Every time one of my family fell, you wished. You wished to be loved. You wished to be respected. You wished to be _you_ and for that to be enough.”

He hobbles his way back towards Alex, leaning on his driftwood crutch.

“When I fell, what did you wish for? I couldn’t hear, not that time.”

Alex stares at him and he doesn’t know what to say.

“I wished for a kiss.”

“And he sent you for me.” 

Alex closes the distance between them until he’s only three feet away from Michael. There’s no lie in any of this and up until he’d found that crater, he hadn’t even known that stars and aliens could be the same thing, but now that he does understand, there’s something else that he feels like he needs to know. 

_Did you fall because of me?_ is the question on the tip of his tongue, but he’s saved from having to answer when his eye catches sight of something on the horizon, just over Michael’s shoulder. 

There, in the distance, hovering over one of the mesas is a gleaming ship that’s afloat, twenty feet from the ground. The color of it matches the pods they have in the prisons, but it’s been adapted to look like an old sailing ship and not the spaceship that Alex knows it could be. He breathes in and then lets out a soft exhalation, grateful for the distraction.

He’s saved from having to ask if there had been something more to why Michael fell.

“There’s the ship,” Alex says, his gaze sliding back to Michael. “Do you know the Captain?”

“I know of her,” Michael admits. “This is my first time down on earth, but she’s been here two decades. Same as her first mate. When we were all in the sky, we were close,” he admits. “It’s been so long,” he says, and it sounds like it hurts him to have to admit to that. “They fell, found trouble, and I didn’t try and rescue them. They told me to stay up there, to stay safe…”

“Michael,” Alex says quietly. “You didn’t do anything wrong, staying up there.”

“I should have come down here sooner, I should have helped,” he says fiercely. “Instead, I stayed where it was safe because I was scared. I listened, but I didn’t do anything.”

Alex gives Michael a disbelieving look, stopping in the shadow of the mesa. They’ve got a good hike to go, but they’re heading in the right direction. Whatever doubts he has about what he should or shouldn’t have done, he’s making sure to deliver them to the ship safely.

“You fell to earth, fractured your foot, and you’ve been hunted by my brothers and a psychotic alien since you got here,” Alex points out. “The Captain and her brother were kept prisoner for years,” he adds, trying not to feel guilty about the part where it had been his father’s cells. “There’s nothing cowardly about avoiding a fight you’re bound to lose.”

Michael stares at Alex, a tumultuous look on his face, like he wants so badly to believe what Alex is saying, but that he’s not sure he can. 

“You’re here now. Let’s figure out how we can get you back to Roswell safely.”

“For a kiss with your love.”

Alex isn’t sure he should feel so stung by that, but he does. He watches Michael for a long moment, thinking about how Michael had felt pressed up behind him and how he’d thought about his plush lips and how warm they would be. That can’t be love, though. Michael is a star and they’re being hunted together. Alex is lonely and Michael is _beautiful_. That’s all it is. The adrenaline is running high and Alex is simply being swept up in it.

The one thing that it’s absolutely done to him is make him doubt if what he feels for Kyle is as deep as he’d believed. If it were, then he wouldn’t feel this doubt and this longing for another man, even if he’s trying to write it off as mere adrenaline. 

“Come on,” Alex says and gestures for Michael to follow him. “Let’s see if we can buy ourselves passage back to Roswell.”

His mind (and more honestly, his heart) can’t bear to think about anything else right now. 

They need to get back to Roswell safely. Everything else isn’t important.


	5. Chapter 5

Between Alex’s prosthetic and Michael’s damaged foot, the climb up to the mesa is a painful one and no less than three times does Michael shout that he’s done, he’s quitting, and he’d rather die by Noah’s hand than take another step. Alex then pivots to give him a disbelieving glare, and Michael manages to find the strength to take the next step anyway.

Once they reach the top, the Iridescent is still docked (thankfully). He’d thought that maybe in the dramatic ascent, they would have flown away, but it looks like their luck is holding out. When they get close enough that he can see the supplies (and the crew restocking the ship’s stores), Alex digs through his pockets to search for something that can buy them passage. He’s fumbling with the backpack, but Michael catches up to him and rests his palm over Alex’s to stop his searching.

“What?” Alex demands heatedly. “They’re not going to take us for free.”

“Yes, they will,” Michael guarantees. “Come on,” he says, and takes the lead for the first time all journey. “When we get there, let me explain why, and I promise, she’ll take us.”

Alex stands there, unsure of what’s just happened, but he lets go of the pieces of alien technology he’d smuggled with him into the desert, wondering why it is that Michael is so willing to approach with ease now, when a few moments ago, you would have thought that Alex had been marching him to his doom.

Then again, from the deep inhalation that Michael takes as he steadies himself, clearly he’s not so sure about this. Alex comes to a stop at Michael’s side when they’re fifty feet from the ship, staring up at the gleaming body and its sails. It’s like he can feel a pull towards it and if Alex can feel it that strongly, he has to wonder what Michael feels when he looks at it.

“Hey,” Alex murmurs, reaching down to squeeze Michael’s hand. “Are you sure about this? We can find another way back to Roswell if you don’t think you want to do this. It might take us longer, but I can find some way to…”

“No,” Michael cuts him off, and steps forward. “This is the way we _have_ to take,” he insists, as though there’s something about this that he has to do. “Captain!” he shouts, his shoulders arching back as Alex watches Michael stand as tall as he can (which is a bit of a struggle for him given that he’s still lilting to one side with his sprained foot).

The movement on the ship dulls to a quiet and the rustling sounds fade away, replaced by hushed conversation.

Clearly, they weren’t expecting visitors.

“It’s not safe for men to be this close to the Iridescent,” a woman’s voice calls from the ship. Alex glances up and sees Captain Isobel Evans leaning over the ship with one booted foot planted on the edge. “Haven’t you heard? The Iridescent only flies with women.”

“We wouldn’t be here if it weren’t desperate,” Alex insists, even though Michael had been the one to hail her and get her attention and had said he’d do the talking. He ignores Michael’s heated glare, because he can’t give up control so easily. “We’re in danger. We just want to talk. Please, let us aboard, we’ll explain.” He shoots a wary look at Michael, hoping that whatever trick he has up his sleeve, it will be enough to get them the passage they need.

Isobel studies them for a long moment, but then glances over her shoulder to call over to someone. “Liz, don’t stab them when they come aboard,” she says, in what Alex supposes is meant to be kindness, but it only fills him with a permeating dread right down to his stomach.

They slowly make their way up the ramp, with Alex insisting that he goes first. If there’s danger on board the ship, he wants to be able to protect Michael if there’s an attack waiting for them. Given the enemies at their backs, he really wants to believe they’re not about to meet more of them, but he can’t be sure. 

When they board the ship and Alex steps to the side, he watches the way Isobel’s eyes fix on Michael, squinting like she’s trying to place him. Alex can see the way Michael nervously stands there, like a young boy waiting to be noticed, and that’s the only reason Alex reaches for his hand to give it a squeeze of encouragement. 

Maybe she won’t recognize him in this form. Maybe he never used a name up there. Still, Alex can’t fault Michael for wanting her to know him.

Now that he’s on board the ship, Alex takes a few moments to truly look at it. The base of it resembles the old pirate ships of old, but it’s made with the shining, glimmering alien material that their ships are made of. Around the ship, there are multiple consoles, and what appear to be weapons rigged on the outsides. 

Someone, somehow, has decided to add sails.

“This ship doesn’t fly by the wind, does it?” Alex asks warily, staring up at them with the gaze of a man who doesn’t quite understand. “Why do you need sails?”

“Rosa had opinions about how ugly the ship looked,” Isobel replies tartly. “I’ve learned that in order to keep my girlfriends happy, I have to listen to their artistic comments about my ship and follow their advice.”

Michael’s smirking behind him and Alex thinks something very awful is about to be said. It looks like Michael catches Alex’s look of disapproval, because when he does speak, it’s not a lewd remark, but the entreating plea that Alex has been waiting to hear. “We need safe passage back to Roswell,” he explains. “I’m being hunted by Noah Bracken,” he says.

Those words sink like an anchor for Isobel, who pauses in her steps. 

“We can take you the rest of the way,” Isobel assures. “You may draw some stares. We don’t typically allow men on our vessel.”

Alex bites his tongue as he looks over at a very man-shaped person who’s hauling boxes around. True, he’s wearing a single earring and his lips are pinker than they would be if he wasn’t wearing some sort of tinted balm, but he doesn’t say anything.

Apparently, he doesn’t have to. “That’s Max,” the first mate explains (who will introduce herself later as Jenna). “He’s Isobel’s brother. At first, we made him try to fit in by having him wear Isobel’s dresses, but we’ve grown lazy these days. Besides, once Rosa gets a sword at someone’s throat, they don’t really question our definition of ‘all female crew’.”

“Which one’s Rosa?” Alex asks warily, because he wants to ensure he doesn’t end up on her bad side. 

Jenna points in the direction of a woman who’s drinking with two others. “She’s with her sister, Liz, and the other woman is Maria. And they’re all very good with weapons in their own way,” Jenna warns, smirking as she drifts past them to head up to the console with Isobel. 

Alex watches the flurry of activity beginning again and he’s not sure why he does it, but he opens his mouth like an idiot. “Wait, that’s it? You’re willing to take us without any payment?”

Isobel turns around to gaze at him over her shoulder, staring at him in disbelief. Michael digs his elbow into Alex’s side, but he’s learned over the years that nothing comes without a price. His father and his brothers have taught him politics and even Kyle has taught him that anything worth having requires payment. It’s why he needs to make sure their slate is clean.

“I told you that we’d take you,” she says, and eyes Alex and Michael for a long moment. “Do you want me to ask more questions?”

“No,” Michael cuts off anything that Alex can say. “No, he doesn’t. He’s just tired, we both are. My foot broke when I fell and Noah’s been after me along with some douchebags from Roswell’s royalty,” he says dismissively, without a care in the world that he’s talking shit about Alex’s brothers.

Then again, Alex has certainly said worse about them, but it feels wrong to do now because it would be speaking ill of the dead.

Isobel’s gaze falls to his foot as she assesses it, then stares at Michael for a very long moment. Finally, she seems to have made up her made. “Max,” Isobel calls over, her attention fixed on Michael’s foot. “We need you!”

The man wanders over and when he gets close enough, he performs the same double-take that Isobel had when Michael had first walked onto the ship. He goes pale, but then his lips curve up in a disbelieving smile. “Is this…?”

“Maybe,” Isobel replies calmly. “Michael’s foot is broken and Noah is after him. Heal it,” she insists, and then heads off to start giving orders to take off. 

Max gives Alex and Michael both an apologetic look and gestures towards a seated area that seems to be bolted into the ship. As they begin to ascend, Alex feels his stomach drop out from under him slightly, given that it’s been a very long time since he’s been flying. The ship runs smoothly and quiet, and if it weren’t for the billowing sails or the fact that the ground is quickly falling away from them, Alex wouldn’t know that they were flying once they get moving.

“Happened in the fall, huh?” Max assesses, sliding up the material of Michael’s pants to get both of his hands on his ankle. He closes his eyes, like he’s assessing the wound, a peaceful look on his face until he stumbles on something, wincing like he’s the one who felt the pain. “Found it,” he says, his hands beginning to glow the same color as the ship.

Alex watches, fascinated, as all the bruising from Michael’s leg fades away, the odd angle it’d been sitting at disappearing, and within moments, it’s like no damage at all had ever been done. Selfishly, jealously, Alex can’t help but wish that he could have the same done for his leg, but that would require a piece of him that he’d left back on the battlefield.

At least when they land, they won’t be hindered by Michael.

Or maybe he’ll use this as the opportunity to run. 

“Good as new,” Max guarantees, patting Michael on the shin. Max certainly doesn’t look so good, and even Michael looks a little worn. It occurs to Alex that they’ve been moving for almost a day straight with no stop for food, water, and he must be feeling the exhaustion from working on a sprained foot.

Alex is feeling the wear and tear, even though he wouldn’t want to admit it. 

Apparently, their exhaustion isn’t a secret, though, given that Isobel approaches them now that the course has been plotted in. “You can have my cabin to rest,” Isobel offers, which means that even across the ship, she’d seen the both of them starting to flag. “We’ll need to hover outside Roswell for a few hours to avoid the patrols,” she warns, checking her pocket watch. “We should be able to make an approach within the next eight to ten hours. I’ll have someone bring you something to eat and drink,” she says, and her eyes land on Michael. “Go. Rest.”

Alex gives him an encouraging nod, but Michael doesn’t go yet.

“What?” Alex asks, confused when Michael seems like he has something he wants to say. He steps closer, in case it’s Isobel’s crew that he’s wary about saying it in front of, but if it’s worry that they’re not safe, he’ll dismiss it quickly. From what he can tell, this is the safest place for them to be right now.

Michael’s staring down at his hands, but he finally clears his throat and looks up. “You heard her. The cabin’s ours,” he says. “I know you don’t want to admit it, but you’ve been pushing just as hard. Come on,” he says, and holds out a hand to him. “I’ve never been good at sleeping on my own. I always had the other stars chattering around me. Come keep me company?” he asks, sounding like he’s almost _afraid_ that Alex might say no.

“Pretty sure Isobel was definitely offering it to both of us,” Alex tries to keep the vibe light, staring at Michael’s hand being held out for his. “Try and keep me away.”

He has to ignore that small offer of intimacy, because he has to keep his mind focused on the task at hand. Instead of accepting Michael’s hand, he brushes past it (and tries to ignore the hurt look on Michael’s face), heading into a cabin well-decorated with art, books, and clothes. There are so many clothes in this room that they absolutely must belong to at least two women, if not more, though given the ship, he’s not surprised.

Michael’s steps are sure now, not a single dragging motion now that Max has healed him. He closes the cabin door behind them, pointedly not looking at Alex. Ignoring his offer seems to have hurt the man, given that every time Alex tries to catch his eye or say something, he deliberately moves in such a way to prevent that.

Alex’s shoulders sag and he wants to explain himself, but he’s not sure how he can. 

At least, not without making things worse.

“She’ll wake us when we’re near,” Alex decides to keep things professional. “I’m going to rest for a bit,” he admits, and reaches down to loosen the clasps on his prosthetic. He doesn’t intend to take it off fully, but he wants to release some of the pressure, which feels like bliss as he lies on one side of the bed.

He doesn’t look back, but he feels the other side of the bed dip slightly, with what must be Michael’s weight as he presses down. When he glances over his shoulder, he sees Michael lying down, curled up on himself, and deliberately facing away from Alex.

He's pretty sure he deserves the silent treatment after he’d ignored Michael’s attempt at civility. He stays sitting up for a little, past when Max comes in to bring a tray of food that Michael ignores, but Alex doesn’t. He’s not sure how much food and drink stars need, but he’s starving, which means he descends on the tray with aplomb, eating and staring at Michael’s still form.

Something inside him wants to reach out for him. He wants to stroke his back, press the warmth of his palm to Michael’s neck and apologize, he wants to tell him that he’ll protect him, but it’s complicated and everything that Alex feels doesn’t make sense. He finishes the ale and bread before he sets the tray to the side. 

“There’s food here,” he says softly, in case Michael is still awake. “If you change…”

If he changes his mind.

And if Alex changes _his_ mind, then all of this becomes a much different quest. If Alex changes his mind and intends to let Michael go when he’s back to Roswell (after Noah and his brothers are dealt with), then he won’t get Kyle, but is that really the worst thing?

He’d made a promise to him, though, and Alex’s loneliness is a physical ache to his soul these days. 

Sighing, he settles back against the pillows and closes his eyes to take a rest, intending to ignore the quandary plaguing his mind at the moment. 

Alex doesn’t mean to fall asleep. He wants to stay alert, on his guard,, but the small bit of bread and ale that he’d drank has lulled him and the warmth of Michael’s body a few feet away makes him relax. It hadn’t taken Michael very long to fall asleep and the deep and steady cadence of his breathing is enough to convince Alex that it wouldn’t hurt if he were to allow himself a moment of rest.

They’ll be back to Roswell within the day and he knows that he’ll need a plan for Noah and his brothers. He’ll manage to think of one, he’s sure, but right now, he just wants to fall asleep with Michael’s warmth lulling him to sweet dreams.

* * *

When he slept, he dreamed of the sky and the other stars. He’d felt safe and secure. Somehow in the midst of that dream, there had been Alex’s voice, soothing him and telling him to rest, but Michael knows that’s his mind trying to trick him.

Alex wants him as a prize, well-rested and ready for his love, so he can earn a kiss. There’s nothing personal to it.

Michael wakes from his nap atop a lavish bed of sheets, an empty place beside him, and the distant sound of music outside. The bedsheets are cold beside him, but then he wonders if Alex had even rested at all. Alex’s maps are, unfurled and clearly marked up in the corner, but they haven’t been put away. He must have abandoned them to investigate the noise outside, something intriguing enough to distract him from plotting their course.

He grabs the white shirt draped over a chair, replacing the one he’s been wearing. He’s pretty sure what he’s grabbed is either one of Max’s or one of the women’s (intended to be larger and suit as a dress), but it fits him perfectly. He reaches for the khaki trousers next, rubbing a hand over his healed ankle with deep appreciation for Max’s healing powers.

When he steps out into the night, Rosa is playing a guitar and there’s dancing on a cleared space in front of her. Isobel is with Maria, Jenna dances with Max before pushing him towards Liz, and the two of them (when they connect) dance like no one else in the world exists.

“What’s going on?” Michael asks Alex, finding him at the outskirts of this impromptu little party.

He’s still tired and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, the curls falling over his forehead, but even in his exhausted state, he notices that Alex doesn’t answer him right away. Maybe he should have been more insistent about him resting, because once they land, he suspects that they’re going to be running to make sure they get behind Roswell’s protected walls and away from Noah.

He still hasn’t asked Alex what he intends to do about his brothers, mainly because either Alex doesn’t have a plan yet or he does and he doesn’t want to talk about it.

“We’re waiting for the patrols to change shifts, so we’re using some kind of cloaking until then,” Alex explains. “Jenna explained it to me, and I think I even understood most of it. It sounds like they can’t see or hear us, which means everyone’s blowing off steam,” he says with amusement, watching the way Max and Liz are dancing much slower, and far closer together now.

Michael glances towards them too, but his view quickly gets obstructed when Isobel steps right into his line of vision. Blinking up at her, he gives her a wary look, his brow furrowed because he's not sure what the hell she could want. 

“Dance with me, Michael,” Isobel says, extending her hand to him and wiggling her fingers to coax him along.

Michael glances nervously to Alex, who gives him a shrug and a nod of encouragement. Michael steps forward, feeling like this is bound to go badly. He takes Isobel’s hand and lets her tug him in, feeling like even though his foot is healed now, he’s liable to dance like it’s still broken, if only because he’s never been the graceful type.

Isobel leads and Michael suspects that’s something that doesn’t get argued, simply because that’s the way of things.

“Captain,” Michael says wryly, “if you want someone who’s good at dancing, it’s not gonna be me.”

“This is the best way for you and I to talk, quietly.”

He hadn’t realized they had anything to talk about, which makes Michael worry that he’s wandered into a trap. If they want him for what he is, it would definitely be a surprise, especially given the stories of what Noah Bracken had tried to do to Isobel.

He’d known that she would take them on board because she knows what it’s like to be hunted by that man, but also to escape him. 

“I know exactly who you are. I know exactly what you can do for someone like me.”

Michael doesn’t rear back, but he thinks about diving over the edge of the airship. He can feel Isobel’s hold on him tightening, and that’s enough to get him to stay in one place. Heart pounding, he wonders why she wants him. Alex wants to bring him back to his true love, his brothers want him to reclaim a throne, and Noah wants to bleed him dry for power. 

He swallows back his nerves. “Then what do you want with me?”

Isobel leans in and he can feel her lips curving up in a smile at his cheek. “I want you to know that you’re not alone,” she murmurs. “Even if you don’t think we remember you, we do. We’ve missed you so much,” she says softly. “Max and I fell when we were so young, but we always thought that you would come after us.”

Her eyes are filled with pain and when Michael looks over her shoulder, he can see Max looking in their direction as well. Relief floods Michael, glad that he hadn’t been wrong and that he could trust them. 

“I always regretted not coming after you, but Alex says I was being safe.” Michael’s not sure he believes that, but it’s what he’s been telling himself since Alex first offered him the excuse. “I know you were both able to escape the prisons, but I should have been there with you. I should have decided to come visit all those years back, and then we…”

Isobel leads him and twirls him before pulling him back. “And then, what? You might be on my crew,” she admits. “Or we may never have been captured or we might never have made it out. There’s too many hypotheticals,” she insists. “I’m just glad you’re here now. By the way,” Isobel says after a beat, once the melody being played from Rosa’s guitar grows softer and sweeter, something like a romantic ballad, “he’s looking at us right now.”

Michael almost asks ‘who’ before Isobel turns them so that he can get a perfect view of Alex glaring at the both of them. “He’s paranoid that you’re going to turn on us,” Michael says dismissively, his head bowing low as he tries not to think about the real reason he’s being dragged back to Roswell, though he needs to tell Isobel so she has proper context. “I’m a token of affection for someone else, as far as he’s concerned.”

Why that bothers him so much, he doesn’t want to say.

“I don’t think so,” Isobel replies, and gives him a look like she’s plotting something. “I’ll make sure that you’re not kept away. We just managed to find you again, do you really think we’d let you be nothing more than someone’s prize?”

He barely knows her, but Michael has the sense that Captain Evans plotting something means that you ought to simply give in and accept your fate. “Wait,” he insists, as she begins to move them back towards the edges, not sure what’s happening and also not sure he likes it, “Wait, what’s happening?”

Pulling back and away from Michael, she tugs on Alex’s hand and pushes him into Michael’s arms. “I’ve ship business to attend to. Take my place,” is not a question, but a Captain’s order to Alex despite Michael’s protests. When it doesn’t seem like Alex is moving, Isobel gives him a forceful little push before she snags her fingers in Maria’s shirt to tug her off to a corner, ostensibly to discuss the ship, but Michael suspects there’s something else at play.

After all, that scheming look on Isobel’s face is far too suspicious for him to think that she’s telling the whole truth.

“I, uh…” Alex stammers, staring at Michael as he takes one of his hands in his own, the other resting on Michael’s hip. Michael moves his hands to Alex’s shoulder, threading their fingers together, and trying to ignore his pounding heart.

He’d ask Max to heal that too, but he’s fairly sure that his powers don’t extend to problems of the romantic sort. 

“I’m really not that good at dancing,” Alex admits, staring down at their feet with his focus on the prosthetic, “and you just had your ankle healed.”

Michael’s amusement is clear on his face. “Are you implying that you’re such a bad dancer that you expect to break my foot again? I think we’ll be fine,” he mock-whispers, even though he’s starting to believe he’s never going to be fine again. He’s falling in love with a man who’s bringing him back to the man he’s in love with.

Fuck, if only Max _could_ heal this. It’d be a lot easier.

“Go on,” Michael encourages. “Do your worst.”

Michael lets Alex guide him in a slow waltz around the ship and he can feel his worries and his cares fading. His foot no longer hurts after he’d been healed by Max and as he watches Alex in the starlight, he can feel himself begin to shine. The clothes that Isobel had given him radiate light and he tries not to think about how _right_ it feels with Alex holding him in his arms.

He’s still no more than a prize to be taken home. It doesn’t matter what Michael might be feeling. It doesn’t matter how Alex had looked as he’d fought off his brothers or the way he’d seemed to panic when Noah got him in his grasp.

Alex needs Michael for his own selfish purposes.

What does it matter that Michael is starting to want Alex? And yet, those thoughts fade away from Michael with every passing chord from Rosa’s guitar, at the sweet little puffs of breath that fall on his neck, and when Michael looks into Alex’s eyes, it’s like the rest of the universe ceases to exist.

He’s so wrapped up in the dance that he doesn’t notice that everyone is staring at them as they move, so wrapped up in his emotions and staring at Alex under the moonlight peeking through the clouds. 

“Michael,” Alex says, his tone breathless. 

Michael opens his eyes, distracted from how safe and warm it had felt to be dancing in Alex’s arms, his cheek pressed to Alex’s shoulder. “What?” he asks, voice soft. He doesn’t want to move because he feels effused with a glowing warmth, like he’s powerful and able to do anything. Maybe it’s a side effect of Max healing him?

“You’re glowing,” Alex says, which would explain why everyone is staring. 

When Michael stares down at his hands, he sees that they radiate light just like the ship. He’s as iridescent as the vessel they’re on. His fingers are still twined with Alex’s and he can see how he radiates, as though he’s a star here on earth. It’s incredibly telling to show his emotional state like this so outwardly, and though Alex has no idea what it means, Michael does. He backs away in an instant, and it’s like the lights go out. He goes from shimmering in that incandescent way to human in the blink of an eye, but it’s not soon enough.

He can see the knowing looks both Max and Isobel are giving him, but Michael deliberately brushes past them, because it hurts too much to acknowledge. What does it matter if he’s falling for someone?

Alex is bringing him back to Roswell so he can be with _someone else_. 

“Michael, wait!” he hears Alex call after him, but he ignores him as he heads back towards the cabin, taking advantage of the lock that seals him in and gives him the privacy to press his back up against the doors, catching his breath and berating himself for being such an idiot.

Michael can shine as much as he wants, and it’s not going to change that.


	6. Chapter 6

The ship hasn’t moved in hours, so when it does list and begins forward flight again, Michael has to reach out and grab hold of a nearby tables to stabilize himself. He’d locked himself in Isobel’s quarters after he’d lost control and begun to shine during his dance with Alex, because he couldn’t reasonably explain to Alex why it had happened without giving everything away. 

He’s not ready for that, so he sits there, the ship’s movement keeping him in an unsteady holding pattern to match his emotional turmoil. 

What he’s not expecting a few moments into the movement is to hear Alex’s voice on the other side of the door. “Michael?” 

He doesn’t respond, because he’s not sure that he can. When he glances down to the door, he can see Alex’s shadow on the other side, too wide of a shadow for him to be standing. He must have levered himself down to sit pressed up against the door. Michael tells himself that it’s only to get himself out of the crew’s way, since they’re likely trying to fly and he’d be a liability, but Michael presses his cheek to his knee, telling his heart to stop caring so much.

“I’m here,” he confirms quietly, pitching his voice so that it’s loud enough for Alex to hear. 

“Are you okay? You just _bolted_ during the dance. Is it because you were shining? You’re a star, aren’t you? Isn’t that what you do?”

Michael remains silent, not sure whether he’s glad that Alex doesn’t seem to know that much about how aliens show their feelings or whether he’s upset that he might have to tell him. Maybe he’s already been told by Isobel or Max and he’s deliberately trying to get information out of Michael.

Either way, he doesn’t intend to give himself away.

“I didn’t mean to,” he protests, closing his eyes and trying not to think about what it had felt like to have Alex in his arms, so close and intimately pressed up against him. He tries not to think about how right it had felt, but he’s failing.

Every time he closes his eyes, he sees Alex there. He sees him with that soft, wondrous smile on his face, eyes glimmering as they reflected Michael’s shining, and he thinks about how even though Alex’s prosthetic didn’t allow them to sweep along the ship’s floor, Alex had still done his best to lead Michael in the dance.

There’s another long silence before Alex speaks up. “Would it have hurt us?”

Michael recoils at the implication that he would ever try and actively hurt anyone, because he _wouldn’t_. He knows that it’s possible. If a star is allowed to shine too brightly, go supernova, they could absolutely hurt those around them, but it would be done at a huge cost. Every star he’s ever heard of doing that has never survived to the other side to tell the tale. 

“I wouldn’t,” he snaps, irritated that Alex could still think so. He’s sure that this is his father’s teaching, but it grates at Michael that Alex could still think that. 

What must they think of aliens in Roswell?

He’s _angry_ , so angry at himself, for allowing himself to feel as much as he does. He doesn’t want to be falling in love, because he’d fallen to Earth and hadn’t that been enough? He buries his face in his hands and tries to think of what he should do. Sending Alex away seems like the best choice, but clearly storming away from him hadn’t given him enough of a hint and they’re on a ship high in the air.

It’s not like they can get much space. He also doubts that Alex is going to let him simply walk away, not when Michael is little more than a trinket to be given.

He’s sure that Isobel would keep him here if he asked, that he could make an escape, but that would leave Alex to face Noah on his own and Michael can’t bear to think about that possibility. It terrifies him, and he knows that even if Alex loves another man, Michael can’t send him off into that danger alone.

“I’m sorry,” Alex finally says. “I don’t know as much as I should about aliens. I tried my whole life to ignore my family’s legacy. I went to battle, but when I returned, I wanted something else. I suppose that’s why I’m bringing you to Kyle. I want the chance for…for something more.”

Michael turns his cheek as it rests on his palm, his face crumpling as he feels his heart break. He also knows that no matter what, he’ll still do his best to get Alex back to Kyle, that he’ll be the present that he’s meant to be, if only it means that he’s alive.

“You’ll get your chance,” Michael guarantees dully, and lets his head fall back against the door with a heavy thud, staring up at the ceiling as the silence permeates their conversation again. 

They stay like that for what feels like an hour. Michael doesn’t have anything else to say and it looks like Alex doesn’t want to risk it either. From the shadow on the ground, he also has no intention of going anywhere, and Michael’s not sure why, but it’s a comfort that he doesn’t. 

The silence stretches on until Michael hears heavy boots on wooden planks, followed by the door behind him opening. 

The only reason Michael doesn’t topple to the ground is because the ship also lists forward at the same time, giving him the chance to reach for one of the bolted tables in the room to steady himself, stumbling into a standing position to turn around and find Isobel, with Alex standing a few steps behind her. 

“We’re here,” she says, and nods towards the edge where a plank is being set up.

Michael follows Isobel and Alex to the edge of the ship, staring out at a city that he’s only ever seen before from the sky. Roswell from the ground doesn’t look half as interesting, though he doesn’t intend to tell Alex that.   
“This is as far as we can get you,” Isobel says, at a dock on the outskirts of the fortress walls that surround Roswell, close to the main tower where the prison lies. Michael watches Alex’s face and he’s pretty sure he doesn’t need a mind-reader to know a few things. He’s thinking about Kyle, he’s sure. He’s also probably thinking about where his brothers are, not to mention that they have no way of knowing where Noah has ended up. 

Logic says that they would have come here, so they’re going to need to be on their toes.

Michael’s heart aches to think about how Harlan’s body had looked out there in the desert bearing that glowing handprint. He can only imagine how Alex must feel, having lost his brother like that, but there’s nothing more that can be done for him. If they want to escape the same fate, they need to keep moving as fast as they can from Noah. That, or they need to get ready to defend themselves against them, and that means weapons and a plan.

Michael stares at the city before him and feels its unwelcome aura radiating. It’s the last place in the world he wants to be, but it’s known ground to Alex and that makes it safe. They also need resources that they can’t get on the ship and with Michael healed, he’s more of an asset than ever.

“Thank you,” Alex says, voice brimming with gratitude. “We wouldn’t have made it if it weren’t for you.”

“I know,” Isobel replies with an airy tone. Behind her, the crew stands and watches, and Michael knows that he could run. He could change his mind and run. One last glance to Alex and he knows that he’d been right before. 

It’s never going to happen.

Michael takes his time saying goodbyes to the crew, saving Isobel and Max for last. Max grabs him by the shoulder and hauls him in for a tight hug, ruffling his curls. When he gets to Isobel, she presses a piece of paper into his hands.

“Docking coordinates,” she says calmly. “Either send a messenger to let us know you’re fine with the coding on the slip or be there in three days’ time. If you’re not, we’ll come after you and rescue you.” Michael stares at her wondrously, even though behind her promise of rescue lies a threat against Alex. Whatever alliance they’ve struck up today will crumble if Michael doesn’t send a message or show up, he sees that now. 

He has to hope that it doesn’t come to that, but honestly, he’s not sure of anything right now.

“You belong with us, Michael,” Isobel whispers. “Three days. Either tell us that you’re safe and you’ve decided to go back to the sky or join my crew.”

He parts from her, discreetly tucking the piece of paper into his pocket, not wanting to give Alex any indication of the secret that they’re both concealing. There’s a firm nod and he glances to his side to see Alex giving polite goodbyes to the rest of the crew. In three days, he thinks he can absolutely be done with all the dangers that have befallen him. 

He can even escape from whatever romantic prison is intended for him once he’s delivered to Alex’s boyfriend, once he’s made sure that Alex is safe and his manly love won’t be upset to lose a prized possession.

Three days until he makes his move.

“Come on,” Alex prompts and shifts his backpack over his shoulder as he starts down the plank. “We’re wasting time.”

Michael follows, but he turns around when his feet are on solid ground, staring at Isobel and Max, knowing that he has a family out there who care about him. He digs his hand into his pocket to check that the slip of paper is there, and then, he keeps moving after Alex, having given one last wave goodbye.

“Where do we go now?” Michael asks, once the Iridescent has taken off behind them and their rescuers vanish up into the sky, heading off for their next adventure (whether it be looting, escaping from Roswell’s reach, or freeing innocent souls). 

Alex stares up at the looming entry arch to the fortress before them. “I need weapons,” he says, “and you need to stay out of sight until I can do something about Noah, then convince my brothers to figure out Dad’s successor in a civilized manner.”

Michael stares at the grey block building. He knows there’s a prison attached here and he can feel the grief of the prisoners inside, calling out to him with desperation and anger, grief and rage. It’s taking every ounce of his focus not to break from his plan and simply go free them. He glares at Alex and does his best not to snap, but it’s quickly apparent to Alex that something is off.

“What is it?”

“The aliens your father has here,” he says, grimacing. “That he kept,” he corrects, because Jesse Manes is dead and that’s half his problem. “I can hear them in my head, _screaming_.”

Alex looks taken aback. “When one of my brothers takes over,” he stammers, clearly thrown off kilter by Michael’s comment, “I can talk to them. Flint or Hunter, whichever it is, they’re better men than my father. They’ll listen.”

“They’ll disband their legacy?” Michael asks with disbelief. 

From everything that he’s seen so far, Michael has absolutely no faith in that. He trusts Alex, but Alex doesn’t seem to want the throne. Michael doesn’t plan to mention it to him, but he can’t help recalling his brother’s words – the one who brings the star back to Roswell earns the right to the throne.

Here he is, and here’s Alex.

If he wanted to open his eyes, he’d have the throne, but he’s only occupied with the thought of ensuring things are peaceful so Michael can be a trinket. He pushes down that bitterness and he knows that in three days’ time, he suspects Isobel and her crew will be storming whatever house he’s in to rescue him. He thinks he’ll be okay with that, given that he can’t see a happy ending for him in this that isn’t aboard Isobel’s ship.

It's not what he wants, but it’s become imminently clear that he’s not allowed to have that.

Especially since _what_ (or rather, who) he wants is currently tucking his map back into his bag, looking much more comfortable now that he’s in the midst of familiar walls. To Michael, it’s a prison where he can hear the psychic howling of his people trapped below. For Alex, he presumes that it’s where he grew up. 

“I’ll convince my brothers,” Alex insists sharply. “Can we please deal with Noah first?” 

Michael wishes that he could snap back at him, but Alex is right. Their most imminent threat is Noah trying to track down Michael to siphon the energy out of him. Until they’ve dealt with him, Michael isn’t safe. Neither is Alex, because Michael wouldn’t put it past the murderous alien to make a play for Alex in order to blackmail Michael into showing.

He hasn’t meant to be obvious, but he suspects that Noah didn’t need much more than how Michael had worked to defend Alex from harm during their confrontation. 

“There’s food upstairs in the kitchen,” Alex is instructing as they walk inside the main hall. They take a few turns with Michael trailing after Alex, barely paying attention to what he’s saying for the view he has of him from behind. “You get supplies and I’ll go find something to defend myself with so…”

He trails off and stops in his tracks. With the narrow hallways, Michael can’t see what he does, so he keeps walking forward, colliding with Alex’s body and slamming them to the ground in a heap. They appear to be in the doorway to a grand hall, tangled up on the ground. When Michael looks up, struggling to get his bearings (and debating snapping at Alex about why he stopped), he sees Noah with a sword pressed against the small of Hunter Manes’ back a stone’s throw away. 

The other brother isn’t here, the one Michael hasn’t seen, but given that Noah doesn’t appear to have shown up just now, he must be aware of his presence and must have run away to secure his freedom. There are endless doors to the hall, but Michael doubts that they can get to any of them before the sword goes in Hunter’s back.

For all their hope and their determination to plan, they’ve walked right into a trap. 

Michael feels helpless and he knows that even though he has his powers back, Noah will kill Alex’s brother at the first sign of trouble. Powers and violence aren’t the way out of this. Michael runs the possibilities as quickly as his genius mind can manage, but even then, he doesn’t like the one he lands on.

No one’s getting out of here alive unless Michael does something completely selfless. 

Michael stares down at Alex and weighs the worth of his life against Alex, his brothers, and all the people that Noah would hurt if they were to let him go free. He knows what he needs to do, even if he feels like he needs to apologize to Alex for it. It’s not like he cares. Alex will be safe to flock back to his love. He only hopes that a corpse is an acceptable gift, once Alex uses the distraction to take Noah out for good. 

“Noah, don’t,” Michael pleads, pushing to his feet and stepping forward like he can somehow obscure Noah’s vision and make him forget about Alex. Hands up in the air in surrender, he decides that it’s better to go with him than risk Noah killing his way through the entire Manes family to get what he wants.

The entire family, including Alex. Michael knows that he’d do anything to prevent something from happening to Alex, even if it means giving up his life. 

“I knew you’d come back here,” Noah says, speaking to Alex. “You’re all the same. You and your brothers squabbling over the throne,” he keeps going, taking the sword away from Hunter momentarily to gesture towards Alex with it, a sneer on his face. “You don’t understand that Michael is more than a prize. He is life itself. Energy,” he rants and raves, eyes alight as he stares at Michael like he’s starving and Michael is a feast.

“I’ll go with you, okay?” he says, heart pounding as he stares at Alex with an apologetic look. 

“Michael,” Alex snaps, and he’s trying to get up, but he can’t.

He won’t be able to, either.

After Max had healed him, Michael’s powers had come back in full. He’s no longer hindered by the agony of pain that had kept him from being able to focus, and right now he’s using every ounce of his power to keep Alex pinned to the ground. “I’m sorry. Tell Isobel that I had no choice and that she should leave you alone.”

“Isobel,” Noah echoes, a hungry look in his eyes. “How is Captain Evans these days?” 

He’s deliberately trying to get a rise out of him, Michael knows it, and even though he tells himself not to play along, it’s a struggle. “Stop it,” he snaps. “I said I’ll go with you, but you need to stop this, Noah. I’ll give you every bit of energy I have left, on the condition that you leave Alex alone.”

“What do you care about this little mortal?” Noah snaps. “We’re better than them, Michael. It’s a shame you won’t get a chance to understand that, but I need your energy. I need your _youth_ and your power.”

Michael shouldn’t poke at him. He knows that he should behave and he should be a better man, but there’s this idiot part of his brain that won’t leave this alone. “I said I’d come with you, but you’re not better than him. He’s been risking his life for me, all because of how much he loves someone,” he says, a pained look on his face. “You’re doing this for yourself. You’re selfish,” he spits at him. 

Noah’s face is incandescent with fury, which means that Michael’s pressed the wrong buttons. If this is how he’s going out, though, he might as well go with a bang.

“Alex,” Hunter hisses, squirming in Noah’s grip. “Alex, shoot him.”

“He’ll kill you!” Alex shouts back at him, struggling against Michael’s hold. “Michael!” he howls at him, furious.

It's fine if Alex is furious, so long as he’s still alive.

“I’m tired of this,” Noah says with a sigh. 

Michael opens his mouth to protest, but he doesn’t get a chance. All of a sudden, Michael can see the tip of Noah’s sword through Hunter’s body, the tip covered in blood. Blood that also happens to be coughed and choked out as Hunter falls to his knees as he lets out a few breaths of a death rattle, collapsing as Alex _screams_. 

It’s complete shock that has Michael releasing Alex from the telekinetic hold, which gives Alex the chance to sprint for Hunter’s side. Stuck there in shock, Michael stares at the body on the ground, then at Noah in horror. 

“I only go with you on the one condition,” he reminds him. His words are quiet, meant for Noah only. 

“Michael! Michael, don’t you dare…!”

“If he doesn’t shut up, I might forget about honoring it,” Noah warns. 

Michael feels the blood draining from his face, but he knows that he’d rather give up every ounce of his life to make sure that Alex gets to live another day. He’s in the midst of opening his mouth to make that promise when someone comes staggering in through another door, a prisoner dragged after him. Instantly, Michael’s hit with an onslaught of psychic pain, which means that the prisoner is an alien.

“Flint,” Alex calls to him.

The last Manes brother, then.

Flint’s eyes dart across the room, clearly sizing up the situation. He yanks on the prisoner’s chains and Michael grinds his teeth as he remembers what that’s like, watching as Flint shoves the prisoner over to Hunter’s body, forcing him to his knees. “Do it,” Flint snaps, shoving the alien again until he lays his hands on Hunter’s corpse. 

“Do what?” Noah mocks. “You can’t stop me. Michael and I are making a deal.”

“Flint, what are you…?”

“You’ll see,” Flint says darkly. 

Michael stares in horror as the alien’s hands glow, shimmering with an iridescent light that’s all too familiar. He doesn’t know every single power that every alien might possess, but he knows that when Hunter starts lumbering to his feet that it’s not good news. Apparently, telekinesis is a blessing, considering he might have been blessed with the talent to raise people from the dead.

“Shit!” Michael hisses and shoves at Noah to bolt for Alex’s side, sprinting and yanking him by the collar to his feet, staggering in a wild race to get some distance. It looks like the deal’s fallen apart, because he doubts the alien Flint had used is so loyal that he cares what instructions were given and Alex looks like a Manes.

He might think he’s using Hunter to get at Noah, but Michael knows better. 

Noah’s furious by the turn of events. “Michael!” he shouts, his voice booming.

Stumbling and shoving at Alex, he tries to get them somewhere safe, but only manage to get to a fireplace at the back end of the wall where Jesse Manes appeared to keep most of his weapons. “We need to get out of here,” Michael says, because his only priority is keeping Alex safe. There are _so many_ doors, but between Noah and Hunter, their exits are blocked. 

“That’s my dead brother!” Alex says in a panic, grabbing a sword to wield. Flint hadn’t exactly counted on needing to give his alien prisoner proper instructions, which means Hunter’s reanimated body is lurching towards Alex, because revenge is a difficult thing to pass up when you’ve been abused by Alex’s family for as long as this poor man has. “Why is he trying to hurt us?”

“Because your brother is a fucking idiot!” Michael bellows at him, shooting Flint a death glare. He’s about to end up an alien skewered on a zombie’s sword. He’s really not sure if that’s better or worse than having Noah drain him dry, but seeing as Noah is hot on Hunter’s heels, that might happen too. 

Michael’s back hits the wall, quickly followed by Alex’s back pressing up against him when he runs out of room to defend them. With no clear shot at an exit and two enemies coming at them, Michael knows that they’re quickly running out of options. Flint is frantically trying to guide Hunter and the alien to attack Noah, not Michael and Alex, but clearly, neither are listening.

Alex could defend them from this distance with the right weapon, but his gun is across the room. 

He could use the sword, but Noah would get there before Hunter’s been disposed of. Michael could try and get the alien to stop using his powers, but not before Noah gets them. It’s one bad scenario after another. 

There’s one thing left for him to try, though. 

Michael grabs at Alex, clawing him in tightly and holding onto him as he turns him into Michael’s hold, squeezing his wrist to get him to drop the sword. They’ve got seconds, but Michael knows what he needs to do – no matter the cost. “Alex,” he says, but Alex is too panicked to register Michael’s voice. They’re surrounded and there’s no way out of this for them. At least, not both of them.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, this is all my fault. I wanted to bring you back to Kyle for a kiss,” he rambles, even as Michael thinks about how everything he’s about to do is for Alex and it doesn’t even matter that he’d been nothing more than a trinket in exchange for a kiss. Now, they’re either going to die at the hands of Alex’s dead brother or from Noah, but either way, they’re going to die if he doesn’t do this. “Michael, I…”

“Close your eyes,” Michael instructs.

“What?”

“I said, close your eyes, Alex,” Michael instructs firmly, reaching over to slide his fingertips over Alex’s eyelids to do it for him. “You’re clever, aren’t you? So, tell me, Alex Manes. What do stars do?”

His eyes closed, Alex’s eyelids flick rapidly back and forth, like he’s not entirely sure what it is Michael’s doing, even if he knows the answer to the question. “Shine,” he whispers. 

That’s what Michael can do to protect them. He pushes Alex behind him, praying that Alex will keep his eyes closed and his head bowed as Michael has guided him to do. He faces Noah, he faces Hunter, and he looks for Flint, but he’s gone. The alien is, too, which means that he must have bolted when things took a turn for the worse. 

“Michael,” Noah warns. 

“You said you wanted my energy,” he says, and he feels himself ramping up, the electricity in the room beginning to crackle as his skin shimmers, as iridescent as Isobel’s ship. He steps forward and feels the power connecting through him, starting to lance in hot pain when it becomes too bright, when it’s _too_ hot. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you, Noah? Be careful what you wish for,” is his final remark, before he goes supernova.

The light bursts from him and sends Hunter back, pulsing through him to send him collapsing to the ground. He lands on a long spear, but Michael doesn’t spare him more than a moment’s sympathetic glance before he turns back to Noah, knowing that if Noah weren’t weaker, then he could fight back.

He didn’t have time to absorb Hunter’s energy. He’s still weak.

Michael, meanwhile, has been healed and is at his very brightest.

He lets out a ragged cry of pain, ignoring Alex’s panicked, “Michael!” before falling to his knees, feeling the last of his energy begin to seep out of him, as Noah begins to wither away in the light, flesh and bone turning to stardust right before his eyes as Michael directs all his light and energy and being forward. The scream he gives is bone-chilling, but Michael only shines brighter, hoping that when he’s a husk of what he once was, that it’ll be enough for Alex to earn that kiss. 

“All this,” Noah manages, while he still has a voice, “for a simple human.”

It's not just for any human, Michael knows.

It's for _Alex_. 

With one last burst of energy, Michael expends it all to save him, collapsing back against his haunches while Noah dissipates from view. He falls back at Alex’s feet, and forces himself to wobble his way to his feet. With the last of his energy, he cups Alex’s cheek, brushing his thumb over Alex’s jaw as he coaxes him softly. “It’s okay,” he gets out, his voice barely more than a croak. 

Now that the blinding light is gone and it’s safe, Alex opens his eyes, a victorious laugh on his lips. “Michael, you did it, you…!”

Michael’s smile is wan and weak, temporary. The world is swimming around him and Michael knows that he hasn’t got the energy in him to reply. That happiness, that victory, only lasts a few moments before he collapses on the ground. He knows that he’s done it, but he’d used up every last ounce of energy to protect Alex. 

You don’t go supernova and expect to live through it. 

“Make sure,” he says, struggling to reach for Alex’s hand and missing it as he sways, “that you get that kiss you’ve been after. Make sure I don’t die for no good reason, okay?” He gives Alex a tremulous smile. “It’s okay,” he promises. “You deserve to be loved. Bring me to that lucky man. Tell him to do it well.”

The world goes pitch black around him and his very last thought is that if he has to die, at least he’ll have done it to save the man he loves.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Nix for the glance over it!

The Iridescent glimmers in the Roswell sunset at its latest berthing dock, calling Alex towards it like a beacon. 

He’s still got blood all over his clothes from his brother’s body, wishing he’d thought to change. There’d been no time. He has Michael slung over his shoulder, the horse and carriage twenty yards behind him on steady ground. Every step feels like fire, and he can’t help the fury that courses through his veins. His father and two of his brothers are dead, he’d had to blackmail Flint to get transportation out of the fortress, but none of that matters. It’s been nearly two days since it happened and Alex has been desperately checking Michael every few moments. 

Alex might lose all his family, but so long as Michael keeps breathing, there’s still hope for a bright future.

He stops to check one last time. Michael’s pulse is there, but weak, and his breathing is ragged. He hasn’t been conscious since the fortress and Alex feels like Michael must be fighting with everything he’s got to survive. That’s what keeps him going even when his leg aches like it hasn’t since they first amputated it. 

Whatever Michael had done to save him is _bad_.

He thinks back to their conversation on the ship, when he’d asked if it was dangerous if a star glowed too brightly, for too long. Michael had said that he wouldn’t.

He’d never said that he _couldn’t_. 

“Captain Evans!” Alex shouts, hoping against hope that this gamble will pay off. He’d found the information in Michael’s pocket and it had planted the seedling of a plan in his mind, one that seemed the only plan the more he thought on it. This is his only chance, because what’s happened to Michael isn’t a wound that can be healed by any normal doctor. They’ve already traveled for so long and for so many days outside of the main protection of Roswell that he knows that if he doesn’t find help here, then they’re done.

He needs a healing hand.

He needs Max, because he’d watched him take a broken foot and undo it. Maybe he can reverse whatever it is that Michael’s done to himself.

The ship is deathly silent in response to his cry, which only ramps up Alex’s panic. He shifts Michael in his arms with a pained cry, fighting so hard not to lose his mind, but he doesn’t know how much time he has. His eyes are filled with tears and he’s on his last shred of sanity. “Please!” he screams at the ship. “Michael did something to protect me, he shouldn’t have, and he’s _dying_ , I need help!”

Whatever game they’d been playing with him evaporates when Alex shouts those words. Instantly, there’s movement, and the plank hits the ground near his feet. Isobel and Max are first down the boarding plank, with Liz close behind them. The remainder of the women linger at the edge of the ship with worry, but it’s Max who carefully takes Michael out of Alex’s arms.

Exhausted, finally here, Alex collapses on the ground, rubbing both hands over his dirty blood-stained face. Michael had been so adamant that he bring him to Kyle, but the only thought in his mind had been to save Michael. For almost a week, he’s been in life and death situations and his first thought has never been of Kyle, but of Michael.

He wonders how long Michael had been staring down at him while he was in the sky, all while Alex had been looking back up. Alex has to wonder just how long it is that Michael has spent thinking about _him_.

“Please tell me you can help him,” Alex pleads, barely noticing the flask of water being held to him by Liz. Ignoring it, he stumbles clumsily to his feet so he can follow, pushing forward to join them on the deck.

Michael’s been laid out on the ground, but no one is touching him. No one is healing him. Alex grabs Max by the wrists to forcibly get him to put his hands on Michael’s chest. “Do something!” he demands, panicked that every second they waste is going to push them over the point of no return.

“What did he do, Alex?” Isobel demands, her voice shaky.

“He shone,” Alex says, staring at Michael and feeling so _angry_ at him for what he’s done at his own expense. “When we got there, Noah was already there. He killed my brother. Flint, he used another alien to revive him, we were cornered, we didn’t have any other option, and I…he…” Alex leans over Michael, his bent fingers stroking his pale cheek. 

Michael looks so lifeless and unlike the furiously fiery man that Alex has come to know that it’s so _wrong_. Michael thinks Alex is in love with Kyle and he is, he had been, but what he’s learned in the last few days is that if he is in love with Kyle, it’s nothing compared to the things that Michael has begun to make him feel.

“Please,” Alex begs. “I will give you everything. Please,” he insists, the tears from his cheeks falling onto Michael’s face. 

Isobel gives him a gentle push, easing him to sit in a more comfortable position as she crouches near Michael’s body, sitting with Alex and bringing him into her arms. “Let Max do his work,” she says, and asks for nothing. 

Maybe it’s because the price he’s paying with his grief and worry is already enough. Alex takes in shaky breaths, willing himself to be strong. If this does work, the last thing he wants is for Michael to see him in his current messy state, because that’s not what he deserves. Max drifts from where he’s standing with Liz, accepting a flask of something (and clearly a pep talk from how she rubs her hand over his arm), before he kneels down at Michael’s side.

“He’s still breathing,” Alex jumps in, even though he hasn’t been asked. 

“I think I can do something,” Max says, “but…”

Alex lowers his head, tries not to think about what disclaimer he’s trying to make. Isobel is holding him a little tighter than when they first sat down, as if they’re both living on the edge of hope, praying that Max can do something. 

Max’s hands glow brightly as he lays them on Michael’s chest. Alex doesn’t want to think about the fact that Michael’s breaths have started to grow rattled and desperate, because he doesn’t want to think about how little time he might have left. He closes his eyes, because he’s not sure he can watch this.

Before, it had only been a foot. This is a whole body, a whole life, and Alex doesn’t know what he’ll do if Max can’t do it.

From the sounds of his strained shouts, Max is having trouble. 

“Max!” Isobel snaps, and holds out a hand. Max reaches out to take her hand in his, holding on tightly as he keeps one hand on Michael’s heart, that starlight shining effusively and shimmering as Max tries to heal someone from the near-dead (because Alex refuses to accept that Michael is dead, he’s not). 

Alex grabs hold of Isobel tightly and wills it to work. _Please wake up,_ he thinks, and, _I’ll tell you how sorry I am that I tried to bring you back as a prize. I’ll be honest about what I feel, I won’t let anyone else have you._

It startles Alex to realize that this is what he wants.

He doesn’t want a kiss from Kyle. He wants Michael, alive and hearty and well, and he wants to be able to kiss him on the lips and feel the warmth of his body against his skin. On the cusp of that thought, Michael startles back to life, gasping as he bolts upright, sending Max stumbling back. It’s selfish and stupid and childish for Alex to think that his epiphany could have caused this, but it doesn’t matter.

He can’t help but think that the heavens are giving him one last chance.

“You did it!” Alex praises Max eagerly, stumbling on a weak leg to clap him on his shoulder before crawling on his aching knees to Michael’s side on the ship’s ground. Collecting him in his arms, he frantically pulls Michael into a tight embrace, breathing rapidly with disbelief and _joy_. “You’re okay,” he says. “You _idiot_!” Alex snaps. “Don’t you ever, ever, ever do that again. I’m a grown man, I can take care of myself, I…”

And when he eases back, Michael’s staring at him with disbelief, his eyes skirting to Isobel, to Max, and to the rest of the crew. Alex hadn’t realized until right then how much of an audience they had.

“You’re welcome,” Michael croaks out, clearly trying to be clever. Alex is still so angry, but that’s fading by the second.

Michael gives Alex a tired smile and he looks like a dream come to life. All the color’s come back to his face and his curls fall perfectly over his forehead. He looks heaven-sent and Alex realizes that he’s never seen anything more beautiful in his life. Alex’s heart pounds in his chest as he leans in, inch by inch, like he’s magnetized by this man and can’t waste a single second without being close to him.

He’s going to kiss him, Alex realizes. He’s going to lean in and kiss Michael, because he’s _alive_. Alex’s thumb is rubbing circles against Michael’s neck, he’s ignorant of how many people are watching them, because he’s going to kiss his star. When he gets close enough to steal that kiss, though, Michael ducks his head away and Alex recoils back, stung by the rejection.

“You need to get me to your man,” Michael reminds him evenly, his gaze directed away from Alex. “You took a huge risk, bringing me here, but I’m glad you did.” He turns his attention to Max, then to Isobel. “I had to do it,” he says, like he needs to somehow defend himself. “I had to, because…” His gaze slides to Alex, who’s blinking away tears of rejection, because of course Michael still thinks that. 

He hasn’t given him a reason to think otherwise.

Until he ends things with Kyle, even the glimmer of possibility, he knows that he can’t rightfully demand anything of Michael. Still, he knows that he’d wander a thousand deserts for a kiss with him. 

“We know,” Isobel assures softly. “I’d ask you to stay with us, but…”

Alex is on his feet, walking away to try and give them some privacy. He’s shaking, actually shaking, and he’s not sure if it’s from the physical exertion of the day (his leg above the prosthetic is aching and he knows he’ll have to use the crutch soon), or if it’s the emotional turmoil he’s been put through. The rejection of Michael ducking away from the kiss rubs at him and Alex has a new mission.

He needs to make sure that Michael knows that there’s only one person in the universe Alex wants to be kissing, and it’s not a doctor back in Roswell.

Even though he’s a few steps away, he can hear Michael speaking with the crew. “…should probably wrap up some loose ends,” he’s saying, which means they must be talking about her offer to let Michael stay on the ship. “I’m going to go back to the fortress, with Alex.” 

Alex snaps back around, gaping at Michael in surprise. “What?” he demands, clearly as shocked as Isobel is. 

Michael holds his gaze. “For now,” he clarifies. “I need to think about some things, make some decisions. That seems like the best place.”

It's a dose of reality that Alex hadn’t asked for and doesn’t want, but he’ll take it. He has the feeling that when all is said and done, Michael is going to go back up into the sky and Alex will have to content himself with making wishes and staring up at him, but at least he’ll be alive. 

He'll endure anything so long as he gets that.

* * *

Alex Manes stands outside Kyle Valenti’s house, feeling like a different man than he was when he’d left. There’s a literal star waiting for him back at his family’s fortress, he’s grieving the death of three family members, he’s fought a murderer, and even though he doesn’t feel quite like _himself_ anymore. Two of his three brothers are dead, Flint is on thin ice (and Alex wouldn’t be surprised if he fled Roswell), Noah is gone, and he’s not so sure where his heart truly lies anymore, with Michael rejecting his kiss (and yet, Alex wanting it all the more). There’s a strange numb feeling in him when he walks old roads that he’s so well-acquainted with in Roswell, but feel strange to him. The oddest part is how much stronger he feels – certainly stronger than Alex has felt in his life. 

It’s time to talk to Kyle, after sitting outside his home for almost an hour, but thinking that and finally moving forward are two very disparate things.

He’s been fidgeting with his crutch as he sits there, trying to think about the man he’d been when he left and all the reasons he’d been so determined to go into the wilds and bring Kyle back a star. 

While he’s thinking about this, the door to Kyle’s home opens and out steps a beautiful woman, who’s in the middle of buttoning her shirt back up. If Alex thinks about it, he would recognize her as one of the women who works with Kyle at the hospital, helping him with his patients. She’s _beautiful_ and she’s very much not Alex.

Strange how that doesn’t sting as much as it should. 

“That was fun,” she says as she leaves, a besotted smile adorning her face. “Will I see you again soon?”

Kyle steps out, shirtless, and looking every bit as in love. “You know that you can come visit every day,” he promises, leaning in to kiss her when he sees the horse and carriage outside of his home, when he locks eyes with, “…Alex.” 

His decision made for him, he steps down from the carriage, telling the driver to wait so he can hobble his way over to Kyle’s side. The woman’s left in a hurry, as if she could sense that whatever conversation they’re about to have is a difficult one. Alex feels strange, partially because he doesn’t feel _anything_.

He’s not hurt or betrayed. Watching Kyle with another woman that he clearly likes has only cleared things up. That said, there is one thing left for him to ask about.

“When I asked for a kiss and you sent me out,” Alex says, staring at Kyle without flinching or blinking, “Were you with her?”

Kyle doesn’t respond, which is all the answer that Alex needs. 

“Alex,” Kyle says gently, after a good deal of fumbling, hemming, and hawing as he scrubs a hand through his hair. “I never really thought that you’d bring me a star. It was my way of letting you down easily,” he adds. “You’re my best friend, but I don’t like men that way. I thought that asking you to do something impossible would give you that hint, instead of sending you off the way you went.”

“So you sent me into the dangerous desert wilds to find a star,” Alex says, the numbness creeping into his bones, “as a way to tell me that you’re not interested?” Regardless of what he feels now, he can’t believe that Kyle would do something so thoughtless.

“I really didn’t think you would go,” Kyle protests. “I can’t believe you _did_.” He glances over Alex’s shoulder. “Well? Where is it? Did you find it?”

“Him,” Alex clarifies, defensive and proud and sharp. “His name is Michael. Stars are aliens, like the kind my father kept,” he says, and maybe Kyle had been thoughtless and idiotic about this, but Alex has been blind to this his whole life. Is he any better? “His name is Michael Guerin, he’s a star from the heavens, and I…”

His face contorts with pain. 

Alex loves him. He’d gone out to find a star for a kiss, and instead, he’d fallen in love with something _cosmic_. 

Swallowing hard, he fights past that knowledge (and the fear that it might not amount to anything if he’s not careful) and knows that he has to make sure Michael knows that it isn’t Kyle that he wants to kiss. He’s not even sure what he wants from Kyle right now, but an apology is high on the list. He doubts he’s going to get that today, because he doesn’t want to get into how _disappointing_ Kyle’s been.

At least, not when Michael is waiting for him. 

“So, you never loved me,” Alex sums up, nodding like he’s trying to take stock. “You never could.”

“Not like that, Alex,” Kyle replies, and the stupid idiot actually sounds like he’s filled with regret to have to say that. That’s the worst of it. As much as Kyle might have his idiotic moments, deep down, he’s the kind of guy that you think you could fall for, because he’s a decent man. Alex had been under that impression for years before he’d realized what really loving someone and falling for them could feel like.

It should hurt to be rejected like this, but it doesn’t. 

In fact, it’s freeing. It means that there’s no guilt that he wants someone else.

“We’re not done talking about this,” Alex warns. “You still sent me out into the _wilds_!”

“I know!” Kyle protests. “I know, okay? How about, how about you come back and have dinner next week? I’ll bring Ana and you can bring your star. You can bring Michael,” he clarifies, when Alex throws him a warning look when it comes to not using his name. “Think of it as the first of many apologies.”

Alex glares at Kyle for a long moment, but he can tell that he’s trying.

Besides, does he really want to stand here arguing or does he want to be somewhere else? Somewhere where he has better things to do and say and try to mend?

It’s definitely the latter.

“I’ll think about it,” Alex says in parting. With Kyle securely dealt with (and a friendship resting on tumultuous steadings), Alex heads back to the driver and carriage, allowing the man to help Alex back aboard. 

“Where to, sir?”

“The fortress,” Alex replies, thinking of Michael waiting there for him. 

Despite Isobel’s offer to let Michael stay on the ship while he recuperated, Michael said he had some things to think about and had asked to come back to the fortress with Alex until he “made his decisions”. Alex didn’t know what those things were, but as they drive back from Kyle’s home, he has his suspicions.

When Alex shows up and hears that all the prison cells have been opened and all the aliens have escaped, he can’t help his proud smile, doing his best to hide it as he gives the guards an order to let it be. He tells them that Jesse Manes is dead, and that there’ll be someone new in charge, but for now they shouldn’t waste their resources on prisoners. Alex doesn’t stop to think about how they listen without challenging him and keeps walking forward to the main throne room.

This time, Noah isn’t waiting, but Michael is. 

He’s sitting in his father’s old throne, his legs sprawled over the arms. Even the sight of him takes Alex aback, but he keeps working on his crutch to get closer, unable to help how delighted he feels. 

“I heard that you’ve been busy,” Alex comments, raising his brows. 

“You left me all alone, I had nothing else to do,” Michael replies, his gaze sliding over Alex’s body as he slings his legs back over the arm and comes to stand near Alex, two steps above him. “I wanted to make sure I waited until you were back, so I could say goodbye.”

Funny how hearing that hurts more than actually seeing Kyle kiss someone else. 

Michael steps down one more step towards him, and Alex knows that if he doesn’t say something, then he’s going to lose Michael for good. Before he can open his mouth, Michael reaches out to brush his hand over Alex’s, sliding down the crutch to grip it lightly before moving his hand to his outer thigh, near the prosthetic. Alex nearly drops the crutch in his shock at the gentle touch, but he manages to steady himself.

“Are you okay?” Michael asks quietly.

“I ran around the desert with you for almost a week and then hauled your dead weight up to a flying landship,” Alex jokes. “We’re lucky the other one didn’t fall off.”

Michael doesn’t laugh, but he does step down one more time so that he’s on the same level with Alex. “You should have let Max heal you.”

“He had enough on his plate, and besides, it’s something I’m used to,” Alex replies. His heart is pounding in his chest and every inch of him is _screaming_ at him to tell Michael what’s important instead of wasting time talking about this. “I went to see Kyle.”

“Yeah? So when are you taking me to him for that kiss?” Michael asks numbly. 

“Never.”

It’s not what Michael’s expecting, clearly. He’s in shock, gaping at Alex like he doesn’t understand. He shakes his head, staring at Alex with disbelief, but Alex can’t help but feel optimistic to see a flicker of hope in his eyes. “Why not?” Michael asks.

They’re so close and Alex is so wary of making a mess of this, but he needs to be so very clear about what he’s learned. “I don’t haul around stars for days to heal them because I want to kiss other men. I don’t want Kyle. I want _you_ , Michael. You’re the only one I’ve wanted to kiss for days. You fell to earth, but I think I’m falling for you.” Alex feels as if he’s bleeding and putting all his emotions out there, but they need to be.

Michael needs to understand how deeply he feels.

“You turned away on the ship, but I need you to know that I don’t want Kyle to be in my bed,” Alex says, reaching out for Michael’s hand in his, sliding his thumb slowly over his wrist and up his forearm, snagging him at the elbow to pull him in with a half-step, using that hold for support. “If you really still want to say goodbye and leave me, you can,” he promises. “There’s only one thing I need to do first.”

Michael stares at him, not pushing Alex off of him. He doesn’t look away. He even wets his lower lip.

“Yeah? What’s that?”

That’s Alex’s cue. He lets his crutch clatter to the ground beside him and Alex grapples to grab onto Michael anywhere he can to steady himself before hauling himself in for the kiss that he’s been waiting to steal since he figured out exactly who it is he wants to kiss. 

It's hardly light and airy, not gentle or kind. 

It’s _demanding_. Alex takes as much as he can from Michael, gripping at his shirt, pulling himself in and opening his mouth to deepen it, because if this is the only kiss he’s going to get, then he wants to make it worth something. Michael doesn’t just yield, he _pushes_ back, like he doesn’t intend to let Alex be the only one enjoying this kiss. Alex can feel warmth on his skin, and when he peeks his eye open, he can see that Michael is _glowing_ softly, the same as he had during their dance.

_Oh._

Well, that clears some things up for Alex, including a better understanding about the dance aboard the Iridescent and exactly how much Michael feels for him.

He slides his hand over Michael’s back, up his neck as he splays his fingers and tangles them in Michael’s curls, tipping his head to the side as he rocks his hips against Michael’s, moaning as he loses himself even further in this kiss that feels never-ending. 

Unfortunately, all good things do come to an end. This kiss doesn’t end because of Alex or Michael, but because they’re in a very public throne room and Alex forgot about the guards. 

“Sir,” says one of them, and Alex flushes as he wonders how long he’s been standing there. 

Alex is drawn from his kiss with Michael, stunned that someone’s managed to actually get their attention (and later he’ll discover the poor guard had to try three times before he did). Michael is still shining, pulsing with that low shimmering light, and that glowing doesn’t stop even as Alex curls a hand to the small of Michael’s back to hold on, though he does drift from his immediate personal space, though not before he presses one last lingering kiss to the corner of Michael’s lips. It’s a promise that they’ll send the guard away and get right back to more of what they’ve been doing.

He’d go into the desert for a thousand hunks of rock if only Michael kept kissing him like that.

Right now, he has this to worry about. “Sir?”

The guard looks confused and apologetic. “You brought the star back,” he points out, trying his best to look anywhere but at Michael and Alex, clearly ruffled and uncomfortable with what they’re doing. “Your father’s decree is that whoever did that would take over his throne and his position. It’s yours if you accept it.”

Alex opens his mouth to say that he doesn’t want it, but then looks at Michael. He thinks about the prisoners that were liberated today. If Flint were in charge, he knows that they would all go back in those cells by nightfall. He thinks about the Manes legacy of finding aliens and keeping them trapped, how the Iridescent has to float constantly and avoid traps because of laws that Jesse Manes had signed into action.

He thinks about all of that, but only one thing matters.

“If I take the throne,” he says quietly, his words meant for Michael only. “Would you stay with me, rule at my side?”

“That night, you wished for love,” Michael reminds him. “The night I fell, I fell for you.”

Alex’s heart pounds in his chest and while Michael might not have agreed outwardly, he can read between the lines as to what that means. Alex supposes this is their life, then. “Michael has every bit as much authority as I do,” he says to the guard. “Make sure everyone knows.” It’s authoritative and firm, and when the guard runs off to let everyone know, he turns to find Michael looking at him with a deeply aroused expression on his face. 

It makes Alex’s breath catch. 

“Alex,” Michael murmurs, voice low and sticky with warmth and joy and all the other incredible things that Alex hasn’t really and truly experienced until now, he’s realizing.

Blinking out of his stupor, he comes back to alertness. “Hmm?”

“You’re not kissing me.”

Laughing, Alex wraps his arms around Michael’s neck and leans in to correct that egregious and terrible mistake he’s made. He kisses Michael until Michael shines again and lights up the whole throne room like it’s the night sky.

Tomorrow, he’ll kiss him awake like a morning sunrise and the day after that he’ll kiss him until his lips bruise and ache. 

He’ll kiss him for a whole lifetime and each one will be better than the last, his nightly wishes made reality with every press of his lips to Michael’s warm skin, his soft lips, his hair, his face, his perfect _everything_. Alex will learn that a lifetime of kisses is worth a thousand journeys into the wild. 

For Michael Guerin, he would do anything.

And Michael Guerin would do anything for him, right back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The small kingdom of Roswell flourished under the steady eye of its king and his star. With Michael at his side, Alex dismantled a dangerous family legacy, and made sure that everyone in Roswell understood that aliens, stars, humans, and other were all given a home. Captain Evans and her crew enjoyed a standing invitation for the many parties that Alex arranged, and with every passing year, Michael continued to shine with his happiness. 
> 
> Because they were happy together, star and human, king and alien, and Alex finally understood what it was to have the one you loved at your side, forever.


End file.
